Another Ministry Disaster
by yourmirroroferised
Summary: The Ministry passed a Marriage law, all eligable witches and wizards must be married within three months. Albus and Minerva must either reveal their secret to everyone, including Voldemort, Or, well, just read and find out. ADMM
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: No matter how I arrange them, my initials will never spell JKR, so I must resign myself to merely puppetering the gorgeous characters of that ingenious woman.

A/N: this is a response to a challenge posted on the ADMM board. The challenge was to post a marriage law fic involving my favorite couple. I will try to make it a little longer, as I'm trying to slowly work my way up to multiple chapter fics. Here's the first stab to see where it will go. Oh, by the way, just keeping the rating up there, because I have no idea where this will go.

After being jolted from his peaceful night's sleep, Albus Dumbledore was not a fully lucid man. But when his wife shook him so urgently, pulled the covers off him, and (of all the mean, cruel, heartless things to do to a man) pulled off his cozy wool socks, he had no option but to find and use his glasses, if only long enough to retrieve his socks. Now, with the new dark wizard, Voldemort, on the rise, Albus rarely received peaceful nights of sleep and nothing short of a catastrophe was going to tug him from his bed.

When his eyes focused on the tense face before him, all thoughts of clothing his feet were abandoned. Minerva was worried, genuinely worried. Albus hadn't seen her like this since the Marauders had set a trap that nearly killed Severus Snape. Granted, with Tom Riddle gathering dark followers, there were plenty of reasons for concern, but in Albus's mind, none warranted robbing him of a good night's sleep.

"Whatswrongdear." Albus managed to mumble in a nearly concerned croak.

"Albus! This is serious!" Minerva chided him. Looking past her tense visage, he saw that it was no longer night, but a bright and cheerful Saturday morning.

_Drat!_ Albus mused to himself, _This means I haven't got an excuse for crawling back under the covers. _

"Don't you hear what I'm saying, Albus?" Minerva finished. Evidently, she had just been explaining the nature of their impending crisis.

"I'm sorry, Tabby, but when you that when you wake me this early on a Saturday morning, you have to speak very slowly, and repeat things three or four times." Albus joked, just managing to shut a yawn from his wife's imminent glare. "After being married for twelve years, you think you would know it is useless to wake me too early on a weekend."

"All right, Headmaster," Even in his half-conscious state, Albus winced at the cold use of his title, this didn't bode well. "I'll try to speak loudly and slowly so your mind can comprehend the mess we're in, and just possibly offer a useful solution."

"Oh, Minerva, don't be upset…" Albus had to resist the urge to dodge the glare the shot from his wife. Instead, he reached across the bed to take her hand. "I promise to apply myself to finding a solution to any of your problems, Tabby darling."

Minerva softened momentarily, until a moment shattering tapping came from the window. Minerva opened the window with a wave of her wand, sighing, "Well, I guess you'll see now…"

"What do you mean by…" Albus began as the owl flew in with the weekend paper. As it plopped on the bed, he glanced at the headline._ MINISTRY PASSES MARRIAGE LAW, ALL WITCHES AND WIZARDS MUST BE MARRIED! _The article went on to expand on the conditions of this law, including the clause stating that all capable married couples must have at least two children.

"Oh… Oh, Merlin." He breathed, "Minerva, how…"

"I know, Albus! This means everyone will have to know that we're married, including… You-Know-Who…" Minerva still refused to say his name, despite Albus's frequent lectures.

"No! Minerva, I refuse to expose you to that kind of danger! You were an auror. You saw what happens to the loved ones of those who resist dark wizards!" Albus pulled Minerva across the bed, and into his arms. _If only I could so easily protect her from all the evil in this world. Or in Voldemort's mind, for that matter._

"Then the only alternative," Minerva sighed, looking up into his tired blue eyes, "Is for me to get married. Again."


	2. A Plan

Disclaimer: My initials will never assemble to spell JKR, therefore, anything HP that follows is hers.

A/N: This is where the story is going for now. I'm thinking about putting some action in later though…

"Don't fret, Minerva," Albus sighed as he pulled his wife closer. Resting his chin atop her rich, black hair (which (to Albus's disappointment) was all ready wound in a rigid bun), Albus could smell the ginger scent that seemed to persistently flit around her. It helped him focus on the problem at hand. Could he protect his wife while still satisfying the inane mandates of the Ministry?

"Don't fret?!" Minerva shrieked as she jerked away from his efforts to soothe her. "I've just learned that not only do I have to continue to keep my marriage a secret, I have to get married a second time to someone else, all to prove I'm _not_ married to the man I love!" She jumped off the bed, evading her husband's fruitless attempts to pacify her. "Truly, Albus, dear! You've made a bigger mess of things than they were before I asked your help! Before I was merely worried, now I'm confused _and_ worried!"

"Tabby, you're rambling." Albus began, "Now, according to the paper, the law gives everyone three months to find a partner. That should be plenty of time to straighten things out. In the mean time, I plan to enjoy a lovely breakfast."

"Albus Dumbledore, you astound me! In three months, I may have to sleep in another man's bed; and all you're thinking about food! Are you simply failing to grasp the seriousness of the situation, or are you truly mad?"

"For now, we will settle for the latter," Albus smiled, as he silenced Minerva's retort with a good morning kiss, "And I do have a plan."

"Thank Merlin!" Minerva rejoined, as she pulled away to face the window.

"I plan to visit the Minister this very afternoon, and discuss the possibility of exempting certain people from the law, if they can prove their need for privacy. After all, I find the entire idea completely absurd! Finding someone to spend your entire life with in three months? Insanity! Why, even after you came to Hogwarts as a teacher, it took us over two years to figure out that we were perfect for each other. And even then…" his recapitulation was interrupted by a tiny, hiccupy sob, "Minerva, are you crying?" He questioned as he glided toward the window.

"I'm… sorry…dear," Minerva sniffed, haltingly, pushing a collection of tears off her cheeks.

"There's no reason to be sorry, Tabby," Her husband eased. This time, he met no resistance as he pulled her into his arms, "What's troubling you?"

"I'm just scared, Albus. While things have never been easy for us, we've still managed to make it through, keeping our marriage a secret. But now this decree will change everything. You're going to be ridiculed for being married to your Deputy. Not only that, but with Voldemort becoming so powerful, there's a good chance he'll try to kidnap me. And I'm not afraid of being kidnapped; I'm just worried about you rescuing me! What if he gets you angry and you make a mistake? What if you end up getting …k-k-killed! All because this absurd…"

"I'm sure, however confused she may be, the minister still has her reasons for instituting such a law," Again, Minerva glared at Albus, so he hastily amended, "But if it would make you feel any better, I'll skip breakfast and head straight to the Ministry."

Minerva's frown receded to be overtaken by a weary smile, "I have every confidence that you will come to a workable solution, Albus, dear. Just please, do find something soon, I couldn't bear the thought of having to put up with anyone else wooing me."

"How did I ever get so lucky, Tabby?" Albus grinned as he leaned down for his goodbye kiss. 

"I was asking myself the same ques…" That was all she got out, before Albus made better use of her mouth.

Breakfast was an interesting affair. Everyone at the staff table seemed to have a new motivation for observing their surroundings. There were nervous glances exchanged between members of the opposite sex. As everyone all ready knew about the decree, it was foolish to pretend that anything else occupied their mind. But how did one start a conversation with someone you had to marry at the end of three months?

In his usual, loony fashion, Alastor Moody broke the ice for everyone by bursting into the great hall, stumping up to the staff table and declaring, "Poppy Pomfrey, I've loved you for years now, and I know you feel the same way. We've wasted years dancing around our feelings. Now this decree helped me realize how foolish that was. I'm not going to dance to any tune any more, Poppy, unless it's a wedding march. Will you marry me?" he finished pulling a small box out of one of his pockets and thrusting it unceremoniously in the astonished mediwitch's face.

"I…I…I… of course, Alastor, darling!" and she jumped up so quickly, her chair clattered to the floor, breaking the awkward silence that followed Moody's feverish declaration. The hall erupted into cheers and whistles and the students applauded the first of many ungainly love scenes that would follow this decree.

As Poppy was whisked out the hall by the Auror, Minerva couldn't help but notice (to her revulsion) that Argus Filch seemed to be casting some pensive glances in Madam Pince's direction. Poor old Professor Slughorn was just sitting down next to Professor Sinsitra. _I wonder how many unlikely couples this ill conceived law will produce._ Minerva winced at a few of the possibilities. _I genuinely hope Albus convinces the Minister to recant soon, or things could get very uncomfortable, very quickly_.


	3. Visitng the Minister

Dumbledore was, at that very moment, stepping into the Minister's office.

Millicent Bagnold, by most standards, was not an especially gorgeous woman, but the instant she stepped into a room she knew. Several of her opponents had accused her of charming her way into office. While it was true that she was a gifted witch, and could have easily done so, it was her powerful authority that carried her to the top. In any crisis, no matter how chaotic, people listened when she gave orders. Minister Bagnold was, of course, backed by innumerable sage, politically minded witches and wizards who made sure the orders she gave were in the best interest of their country. But in the end, it was her strong opinions, and independent spirit that had pulled them through countless crisis, including, what the Muggles quaintly referred to as World War II but was actually, Grindelwald's regime. Her gray hair was severely chopped off just below her chin, emphasizing her firm jaw line. Far from being young, yet Millicent's hazel eyes still sparked with the fiery drive of youth rounded with the determination of an accomplished lifetime. As she stood to her unremarkable height, barely reaching the Headmaster's shoulder, and threaded her way purposefully around the exceptionally neat desk, her determination was clear.

Albus Dumbledore was slightly less confident of reaching an agreement, at least, not as speedily as he'd hoped. Nonetheless, he took the proffered chair (a hard, leather covered affair that left him longing for his nice comfy napping-chair by his study fire) and determined to do his best, not only for Minerva, then for the entire wizarding populace.

"I believe I know why you're here, Dumbledore," Millicent began, she was notorious for dumping social pleasantries to the side, "You've come to see me about the new marriage law."

"Ah, very perceptive, Minister," Dumbledore smiled, hoping to ease the stone straight line from her mouth, "Actually, That is precisely why I'm here. You see,"

"Yes, I see, Dumbledore," the Minister interrupted, "I see the results of the last census. Did you know that the wizarding population has decreased eight percent since the last census? Eight percent! That's unheard of!! In the past seventy-five years, the wizarding populace has receded to two thirds its previous size!"

"I know there are growth problems, Miss Bagnold. But I believe they are a result of the dark wizards that have plagued the past generations," Albus inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. This was his out! Surely Millicent would agree with him. "Look at the crisis we face with Voldemort. No one is willing to settle down and have a family because they are afraid of him! Voldemort's attacks have become more and more violent lately. I think the ministry needs to pursue peace, and let the people handle the population."

"I can't do that, Dumbledore!" Bagnold stood, frustrated, "Another war means more deaths, more bloodshed! There will be no wizarding community left! We can't afford to wait anymore, we must act now. If the people won't handle this, it becomes the Ministry's problem. I wish it didn't have to come to this, but it has. Besides, I'm not convinced Voldemort's as big a threat as you make him out to be. All he's done so far is create a few pure-blood rallies, instilled wizarding pride. That's healthy for a people."

"Is murder healthy, Millicent?" Dumbledore cast a questioning eyebrow her way.

"Don't tell me you're going to start with that whole "mysterious disappearances" kick again? We have no evidence that they are related to Voldemort in anyway. Now, unless you can give me proof that he is as terrible as you say, I see know reason for your fears that the wizarding community is simply afraid. As far as I'm concerned, things are quite peaceful."

"Believe what you wish, Millicent, the truth remains," Albus sighed before turning the conversation, "If I may continue in a more personal vein. I also stopped by this afternoon to inquire as to whether I might be exempt from you latest decree." 

"Now, Professor, why would such a talented, insightful, compassionate man as yourself be afraid of getting married?" The Minister gave him a teasing grin.

"It's hardly a question of fear, I merely feel that, with running Hogwarts, serving in my various capacities here at the Ministry, and fighting Voldemort, I have little time to devote to a family."

"I hardly think lack of time is a valid reason, Dumbledore! After all, it's your civic duty at this point, if not a legal mandate. And a powerful wizard such as yourself, don't try and be humble now, we both know its true," Bagnold waved off his blushing attempts at humility, "But a powerful wizard like you ought to be the first to settle down! Potent magical blood like that ought to be passed on!"

Albus hurried the conversation into a more comfortable direction, "Be that as it may, there are several difficulties to my situation that cannot be revealed at this time. I must simply ask for you patience, and a reprieve from the law."

"I can't, Dumbledore. Unless you give a valid reason," The Minister sighed, "Now, if it is a personal secret, I promise it will be guarded under the tightest security. Otherwise, you are tied to the mandate just like everyone else."

"If I could offer you proof that I was all ready married… possibly a marriage certificate, would that suffice?" Albus tested, tentatively.

"What are hinting?" Bagnold leaned over her enormous desk as if trying to read the secret in his eyes.

"I merely would like an answer to my question. If I were to show you a marriage license, proof that I am married, would you promise to keep it secret?" Dumbledore was showing slight signs of apprehension, but they slipped right past Bagnold's peering glance.

"Well, if you were married, you would still have to have the two children, in order to fulfill the law." The Minister looked nonplussed.

"I see. But the law gives four years to fulfill that clause, correct?" Dumbledore had started to form a plan.

"Yes… Dumbledore, what aren't you telling me?" In frustration, the petite woman leapt from her chair, and stood to her full height.

"I have to talk to someone about something… I'll be back soon." Dumbledore threw out, departing, then just he reached the door, he threw in common courtesy, "As always, it has been a pleasure, Minister." With that he closed the door behind him.

"Wait! Dumbledore! You can't just…" But by the time she flung open the office door, Millicent was calling to nothing but thin air. Dumbledore had gone.


	4. Discussions, and a Headcold

A/N: Okay, so by now, this is officially AU (in case you hadn't noticed). Here's the next part of the story, this is all I have for now, sort of. It's more a matter of gluing the ideas in the right order. (and then making sure that order makes since to someone besides me.)

Disclaimer: Last I checked, my initials still weren't JKR, and since her name is on the copyright, I'm just borrowing her characters.

That evening, the weather decided to remind everybody just how far they were into autumn. The wind put up a pompously grandiose racket, and the trees in the Forbidden Forest danced in time until their rust-stained leaves staggered off from sheer exhaustion. After a while, the rain felt left out, and decided to join in the racket. Starting out as a generous sprinkle mixing with the wind, it suddenly got bored with simple splattering things, and decided to really bring it down. In the end, the poor, tattered leaves huddled in sopping piles, while the wind cooled off. When suddenly, thunder and lightening decided to crash the party and came rolling in with a flash bang.

In the middle of all of this, Minerva McGonagall was out looking for Albus. True, he had sent an owl saying he had met with the Minister, and had come to an understanding. He also stated he wish to discuss something with her upon his return. The letter concluded with a warning that he had urgent business, involving the Ministry's latest decree, and would be home by seven. But it was now eight o'clock; Albus should have been back an hour ago. Professor Dumbledore was not one to keep regular hours, but with Voldemort becoming bolder every day, Minerva couldn't help but nurse the occasional worry. Granted, this time, she might become a bit hysterical. Braving an October rainstorm was probably a bit above the average mark of concern. But Albus said he wanted to discuss something with her. What had he learned at the Ministry? Was she going to be forced to have a sham marriage with someone else? All these worries were too ponderous to leave contained in one room, so Minerva decided to pace the grounds, waiting for her husband's arrival.

The tiny pocket watch she had slipped in her pocket told her Albus was now an hour and a half overdue. She glanced at the sky, it was getting darker, perhaps…. No, she would wait until he came. She jumped around abruptly (one of the unfortunate side effects of having a cat animagus, Minerva was exceptionally tense) when the customary popping announced her husband's arrival. Dumbledore had managed to withstand the storm and stay fairly dry; McGonagall was not so lucky.

"Minerva! You're soaked to the skin!" Albus froze at his wife's sopping embrace, "And with this cold weather, you'll probably catch cold! Let's get you inside!"

But Minerva was past caring, she was so glad to have her darling back in her arms, "It doesn't matter, Albus, just as long as you're here."

"See, you're delirious all ready! My Tabby would never greet me so warmly after having to wait in the…" but his words were cut off by a heavy, hot kiss. "Well, why don't we go up to the study, Tabby, maybe I could amend my last statement about a cordial greeting…"

They headed quickly back into Hogwarts and, carefully avoiding any prying eyes, slipped into their shared rooms. Once Albus saw Minerva off to change into dry clothes, he started a roaring fire. When he returned from doning his favorite purple flannel pajamas, he found Minerva curled under a quilt on the couch. Albus snuggled in next to her, pulling her in to pick up where they left off. To his surprise, Minerva pulled back.

"Albus! What happened with the Minister today? I've been nearly ill with suspense all day!" Minerva sniffed and pulled more of the quilt towards her.

"Ah, yes…." Albus cleared his throat, obviously reluctant to abandon his previous course. "Well, I gave her what I believe to be the reasons for the population shortage, as you know, my dear…" 

"About lack of peace causing people to avoid getting married?" Albus nodded, "Yes, you've told me that, darling, What did she say?" Minerva's eyebrows were nearly creased together with concern.

"She still does not agree. Unfortunately, Millicent still refuses to believe that Voldemort is a threat at all. She even cited his 'pure-blood, anit-muggle' riots as being good for the wizarding community." Minerva shook her head in exasperation, Albus had been warning Bagnold for nearly a decade that this would happen, _but she was busy with other matters_ thought Minerva disdainfully, "So, the Minister refuses to repeal the law, or even grant me a reprieve. She actually stated that if I could give her solid proof of Voldemort's malignance she would consider recanting, but not until then."

"He's all ready killed a dozens of people!" Minerva exclaimed in disbelief, "What more does she want?"

"Evidently some kind of open catastrophe," Albus sighed, and somehow, his eyes looked old in that moment, as if their usual spark had been doused with all the tears of those who would lose loved ones in the impending war.

"Then, the Order must take stronger action now, Albus," Minerva leaned in, lending him a world of support.

"I'm afraid so, my dear," suddenly, he remembered what he had acquired on his errand, "Speaking of action, Minerva, I have encountered a dilemma. You see, as I discussed my delicate situation with the Minister, she gave me her word that if I gave her solid evidence of my marriage, she guard my secret as tightly as legally possible. While I know the Ministry has a bad history when it comes to 'secrets' I think this may be the best option. But I will do nothing without your approval, Tabby, so what do you think?" 

"Oh, Albus," Minerva sighed, "I wish it didn't have to come to this. I mean, if we hide it, our marriage is going to come out sooner or later anyway. If we tell the Ministry our secret, that would make things much easier for all of us, especially me! It's a good thing you weren't here today, otherwise, you would have probably gone into a jealous rage at the way Professor Fortinbras was ogling me. But on the other hand, if we tell the Ministry, there's a strong possibility our secret will fall in the wrong hands. Truly, I think we should tell the ministry and be done with it. If our secret gets out, we'll be no worse off than we were before. If it doesn't, we're safe. But if we don't fulfill the Minister's mandates, I will be forced to marry someone else, and I can hardly bear to think of that!" After this declaration, Minerva buried herself in Albus's wispy white beard.

Putting his arms around her, Albus smiled. He had hoped she would acquiesce, "Then, my dear, I hope you don't mind that I've taken the liberty of opening our Gringott's vault to retrieve this." With that he reached into the forgotten reaches of his jacket and pulled out the piece of parchment that contained their marriage license. "If you'd like, I can take I to the Ministry on Monday, and then we will have no more trouble from them."

"Oh, Albus! You're ahhhh…ahhh…Aaaaaccchhhooo!!" Minerva jerked out of her lover's arms to summon a large tartan handkerchief just in time to catch her sneeze, "Oh, dear," She sniffed as she rubbed her nose, "I think I did catch a cold, Albus. Drat you and your mysterious errands!"

"I'm sorry, Tabby." Albus's face was awash with chagrin, "You never know if an owl will fall into the wrong hands, and… well, actually, you look kind of cute with your nose all red like that…" He leaned in to give her a peck on the cheek.

"ALBUS!!" Minerva shrieked, and started to jump up after him as he skipped nimbly out his wife's aim. However, her head cold had begun to take full effect, and her ascent was impeded by the explosion of a monstrous headache. Minerva groaned, sinking to the couch with her head clutched in her hands.

During the next half an hour, Albus worked like mad to make his Tabby comfortable. He made an entire pot of good, strong peppermint tea, and conjured a box of tissues. Then he pulled a pillow from the bedroom and fluffed it up to help Minerva relax. After tucking the quilt more firmly around her, he sat at her feet and read articles from the latest edition of Transfigurations Weekly out loud to her. Eventually, they both settled into the comfortable silence that many years of marriage brings.

This was shattered when Albus leaned back against the couch and began pondering out loud: "You know, Tabby, darling." He began tentatively.

"Hmmmm," Minerva was halfway into somnolence.

"There was that tiny little clause in that law." Albus continued, haltingly.

"What did it say?" Minerva queried sleepily.

"Oh, nothing really. Just that, well, if we prove ourselves a legally married couple, well, according to the law… We have to beget two children in the next four years" Albus rushed through the last stretch in one exhalation. His wife snapped up from her pillow, all thoughts of an easy solution banished from her mind.

"WHAT??"

A/N: Don't worry this story is far from over. I still have a lot more to tell you. Thanks for all your smashing reviews. I truly appreciate each and every one. BTW this is set in approx. 1970.


	5. A Suitor

A/N: All right, here's the next installment! Read and enjoy, Thank you to my faithful readers for all you wonderful reviews!!

Disclaimer: If my initials were JKR would I be sitting on a Pilates ball, drinking chamomile tea, and typing this story?

The next morning, Minerva felt no better. Her head felt the size of a beach ball, and she had not enjoyed the necessity of sleep for more than thirty-six hours. Albus told the staff he would be running errands for the day, and covertly slipped into Minerva's room to spend the rest of the day nursing her. Poppy had yet to return from her nuptial tryst with Alastor Moody, so Minerva was resigned to the somewhat amateur, but loving, care of her husband. Meanwhile, Dumbledore exuberantly expended all his energy trying to improve his Tabby's health. He constantly had a kettle of water on, and made her drink an exorbitant amount of tea. He brought her fresh, tartan-edged handkerchiefs every half an hour, and dutifully washed the old ones. What irked Minerva most was his insistence that she remain in bed. By the end of the day, McGonagall was so weary of his constant attention that she gave him an ultimatum.

"Either you sit down and rest, Professor Dumbledore. Or you'll experience first hand just how hard it is to move when you've been turned into a rock!" She growled, her scratchy voice grating from behind the twentieth handkerchief of the day.

"Now, Minerva," Dumbledore clucked, carefully securing her wand in his pocket. While Minerva had been known to do wandless magic on occasion, she was not quite practiced at it, and could never transfigure a human being without a wand. "You know you have to drink plenty of liquids and get lots of rest in order to get well! That's how the Muggles do it! And with Poppy on vacation (this was received with a smirk from the occupant of the bed), we have to live without a Mediwitch's aid."

"Albus, I hardly think gulping fifteen cups of peppermint tea in eight hours will cure anything but an obsession with peppermint. As for my health, I think it would be better for me to get up and move around. There are essays to mark and quizzes to grade. Besides, with the Halloween feast at the end of next week, I have less than seven weeks to prepare a review schedule for the end of semester exam!"

"Minerva, put aside the work, and simply enjoy being alive!" Dumbledore chided gently. "You know, you entirely avoided The Topic last night."

"Yes, well, it's a little hard to think about starting a family when your head is throbbing," Minerva croaked, scuttling back into the pillows and picking up a random book from the bedside table. Clearly, she wanted to avoid The Topic at all costs.

"Is the prospect of having a child with me truly that revolting, Minerva?" Dumbledore questioned softly. He had conjured one of his comfy chairs next to the bed. Her face riddled with horror and guilt, Minerva peeked over the top of the well worn book to see her husband's face. His face was aberrantly cheerless, and while his eyes still held the vestiges of hope, they glowed with hurt and sorrow. Remorseful that she had caused the pain, Minerva dropped the book on the tartan comforter and amended. 

"Albus, darling, how could you ever dream that I wouldn't want to have your child? I've dreamed for years of having a family, but we've always agreed that it was too dangerous! You and I have both seen what happens to the families of those who oppose dark wizards. No child should have to born into a world where his life is constantly in jeopardy. And with our marriage a secret, there would be awkward questions to answer. I had never really thought of it as a reality, I suppose. And now that I'm faced with the possibility, I guess I'm just scared. What if something goes wrong? What if we were to lose the baby? What if he was killed by Voldemort? What if…" Minerva's speech crescendoed until her voice gave out on the last few words. Albus reached out to grasp Minerva's slender hand between his own.

"I know, Tabby. But there's risk in everything. And if you never risk anything, you'll never gain something in return. As for the danger, I think a child with such an amazingly talented witch for a mother…"

"The most powerful wizard of the age for a father," Minerva interrupted, smiling and squeezing Dumbledore's hand as he blushed.

"As you see, my dear, there is little else we could do to protect any child, even our own. Now, why don't you take a little nap while I go fill up the kettle?" Albus had returned to his usual cheery self.

"NO MORE TEA!" Minerva rasped.

The next day say the beginning of the week of Halloween. Minerva's cold had improved enough for her to go back to teaching. Poppy returned to her post that afternoon, looking slightly abashed when Minerva visited to get her cold cured.

Poppy explained, "Well, you see, Alastor and I got married on Saturday afternoon. And even though I told him I needed to get back to Hogwarts, he insisted on at least a one day holiday. We promised to spend Christmas holidays with each other as a Honeymoon."

"I'm very happy for you, Poppy," Minerva smiled ruefully, "But if you had seen the way Albus doted over me yesterday! It was enough to make any witch loose her temper!"

Poppy Pomfrey was one of the five people who knew of Albus and Minerva's marriage, Albus's brother and the warlock that performed the ceremony being the other two. It helped, when Minerva was frustrated with Albus's day dreaming, to have someone to vent with.

"I can just imagine! I hope he didn't try to feed you any Lemon Drops!" Poppy smiled wickedly, knowing Minerva detested most candies, "The sugar would only make it worse!"

Albus had departed for the Ministry, promising to be back by sunset. He had left Minerva under strict orders to take a nap that afternoon, because he was convinced she wasn't completely well yet. Minerva ignored his concern until she was sitting in the teacher's lounge in the late afternoon grading homework. The massaging effect of the fire and the persistent softness of the chair she sat in had her eyelids sweeping lower and lower each time she blinked. Until Professor Slughorn exploded through the door with a huge grin on his face.

"Fellow faculty members!" He began, addressing the five or six teachers working there, "I have a wonderful announcement to make!" Minerva tensed. What unfortunate woman would be the catch of this curio seeking man? "In light of the recent Ministry decree, I'm holding a Staff Halloween Mixer party this Friday evening at eight, after all the students are returned to their common rooms from the feast. All staff members are invited and encouraged to bring guests. This will just be a little informal get-together to encourage healthy relationships between Staff. Looking forward to seeing you there!" He finished in his usual pompous manner, grinning wickedly; and popped out the room as quickly as he had entered it.

The atmosphere of the room flipped over backwards. The professors began taking notice of each other in a whole new, and not exactly comfortable, way. Minerva began to hastily gather her papers and walk toward the door. She was hoping to avoid the attentive eye of the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Alexander Fortinbras. He was a handsome man, built like an oak tree, with jet black hair and beard framing his leather colored visage. His eyes, tempestuously grey-green, implied a stormy, proud temperament, which had not been curbed in his fifty years. He had started from his corner table when Slughorn entered the room, wand, as per usual, at the ready. When the announcement was finished, he started moving in Minerva's direction with a look of intent so focused, it frightened Minerva. Things were going to get very awkward, very fast.

"Wait, Professor," He interrupted her departure, his loud voice capturing everyone's attention. Minerva would have to acknowledge him now. "Minerva," He pushed her name out like a bullet from a Muggle gun, "I would like the pleasure of your company at the Staff Mixer." 

"This is rather sudden, Professor Fortinbras," Minerva stood stiff as a rail, only turning halfway towards him, afraid to look into his eyes.

"Please, call me Alex," He smiled, and his eyes became a gorgeous sunset reflected on a calm sea, deceptively gentle and inviting, "And when I set my sights on someone so covetously beautiful as the fair Minerva McGonagall, boldness is required. I could never live with another man sneaking her away from me."

At that point, Minerva's heart stopped. No one but Albus had ever so blatantly called her beautiful. She knew she had the power to entrance the opposite sex since her seventh year at Hogwarts, but none of her suitors had been this bold. _Now I'm really in trouble!_ She sighed inwardly. _If only our marriage could be made public! It would have saved a lot of awkward situations._ _I have no legitimate grounds to refuse him! And where is Albus when you need him? Drat that man! _ _Now, it will arouse too much suspicion if I refuse! _

"I would be delighted to accompany you to the party…. Alex," she nearly chocked on his name, but forced a smile to cover it up.

"Splendid, I will see you at seven thirty this Friday, then, Minerva" Her name slid from his mouth this time as if he had just cast a spell. And he had, for everyone in the room eased back into their routine after the tension of the awkwardly outright flattery. But Alexander Fortinbras was never a man to do anything by halves.

Albus Dumbledore was not there to speak up for himself because he was, at that moment, setting foot in the Minister's office.

"Ah, Dumbledore," Millicent tensed, the ends of her grey hair swishing just slightly as her jaw became more determinedly set. "I was wondering when you would show up. So have you come with proof of your marriage? Or perhaps another "mysterious disappearance" story? Has Voldemort finally blown the world to smithereens?" She queried rather coolly. She had never had much tolerance for Dumbledore's airy, easygoing ways. It made everything seem so spur-of-the-moment. Millicent hated spur-of-the-moment. After all, she had worked years and years to become minister, it didn't happen on the whim of a second! Thus, she addressed Dumbledore with a snappish, anti-nonsensical grate that told him she meant business.

"Yes, sorry about our last meeting, Minister. I had to obtain someone's permission before I could satisfy your curiosity." Dumbledore began in a most gracious, assuaging manner, "But I now have evidence of my marriage. As for Voldemort, I regret to say that this current personal matter has prevented me from following him as closely as I would like to. But as far as I am aware, he has remained rather quiet lately, another cause for concern." Here he paused to withdraw the document from his robes, allowing his last allusion to sink in. Laying the license on the cherry wood desk before him, he continued, "As you see here, Minerva McGonagall and I were married twelve years ago. The document was signed by the proper witnesses, both of whom are still able to testify to the event, and was sealed by the Ministry official who performed the ceremony."

For several ungainly moments, Millicent Bagnold resembled a fish out of water. Her mouth opened and closed attempting form words, but no sound came out. Then she shut her mouth, pulled the document toward her, and examined it carefully. Finally, after several minutes of fruitless scrutinizing, Bagnold was forced to concede the document's validity. "But why the secrecy?" Her curiosity leapt out, "I mean, there were rumors, at first. Minerva McGonagall is reputedly beautiful, and to be serving so close to you, unmarried…. Well, there was quite a scandal. But then people realized you were far too old for her…" Here, Albus winced inwardly. "and … Oh, Merlin…. You really are married? I thought you were just stalling for time…. But you really…" Here the Minister drifted off into unbelieving silence.

"We had to keep it a secret for several reasons, Minister," Albus decided that even though it was none of her business, it would help his case if the minister saw things from his point of view. "First, there would be, as you say, a scandal. I am eighty years Minerva's senior. And while that may make little difference to us, I'm afraid most people are blind to love's power. Second, it would be unprofessional; people would begin accusing Minerva of keeping her job because she slept with her boss. Minerva is an intelligent, highly skilled witch, we couldn't have people tarnishing her name because of her husband. Finally, Minerva and I have both fought dark wizards. We have seen the horrors of vengeance, kidnapping, and torture. Since we are both outspokenly opposed to dark wizards, either one of us would be prime targets for such hostility. We couldn't bear to have the each other tortured or killed, so we have kept our love hidden from prying, ill-intentioned eyes. That is why it is imperative that you guard this information with your life, Millicent. I cannot bear to think of what could happen to Minerva if this information left this office." There was a sincere pleading in his eyes that almost brought Bagnold to tears. To prevent them spilling out, she cleared her throat sharply, returning to business.

"Don't worry, Dumbledore," the Minister nodded solemnly. "The information will be guarded as the most careful of secrets. There is one detail I would like to highlight for you. Just because you can prove your marriage, does not mean I am excusing you from the full weight of this law. The law clearly states that all couples must bear two children within the next four years. You are not exempt from that clause, no matter how perilous your circumstances."

"Of course, Minister," Albus smiled in understanding, she was softening. "Now, during our last meeting, there was one thing I would like to clarify." The minister began to grind back into her tense, cautious mode again. Albus hurried to finish his supplication, "I presented to you my theory that fear is preventing the people from settling down. I also pointed out that I believe Voldemort to be the source of this fear. You, on the other hand, see no substantial evidence of this. If Voldemort were to blatantly attack someone, would you consider repealing the law until such time as Voldemort was vanquished?

"How you harp on this Voldemort nonsense!" Millicent shrieked, pounding the desk with her fist in exasperation, "All right, if it will placate you. I promise to repeal the law if you can prove with substantial evidence, that Voldemort is a serious threat." She sighed, weary of his hounding, "Now, is there something else you wanted to discuss?"

"Not at all Minister," Albus smiled, benignly.

"Well then, good afternoon!" She declared, abruptly rising from her desk and opening her door with a wave from her wand.

"Always a pleasure to meet with you, Minister," The Headmaster nodded, as he was unceremoniously rushed out the door.

After supper at Hogwarts that evening, he returned to his chambers to find a frantic Professor McGonagall pacing like a caged tiger in her Tabby cat form. Upon his entry into the library, the cat sent him a decidedly dangerous feline glare, and leapt onto the couch, transforming into her human form just before landing.

"Well, Albus, how was you time at the ministry?" She began, and by the angry bass-purr that resonated behind her words, Dumbledore knew he was in trouble.

"It went very well, Tabby," Albus smiled, hoping his attempt at cheerfulness would catch on. No luck, "She agreed to repeal the law if we could prove Voldemort dangerous."

"Prove…Voldemort…Is the woman blind?" Minerva shrieked as she leapt from the couch, changing back into her feline for she exerted her anger by leaping in rapid succession from chair back to chair back, making hissing noises every time she hit a chair. Albus was used to her loosing her temper like this, and, as it was better than her in her human form transfiguring everything in range (including him, on occasion), he simply settled on a stool in the corner and continued to converse as if she was sitting rationally on a seat opposite him.

"She also approved our marriage certificate, and promised to keep it as safe as possible," Albus winced as she hissed particularly loudly, "Don't worry, Tabby. Our marriage will remain a secret." At this, Minerva transformed back into her human form, returning to her former place to simply glare at him. "But enough about me," Albus gulped frantically, and welcomed the deluge he knew he would rue later, "How was your day, darling?"

"Oh, fine, Headmaster," Minerva spiked, "Considering a professor openly flirted with me today, and asked my to go on a date with him. And I was forced to accept. You know why," she paused here, casting another frightening glare towards to occupant of the stool. "Because my husband was away, and couldn't stand up for himself." Now she stalked toward the stool, Albus grew slightly uncomfortable, "No matter, even if he had been here, it wouldn't have made any difference. Do you know, I'm married to the most wonderful wizard in the world," she was so close, she leaned in and kissed him gently on the nose, pulling back to yell in his face, "AND I CAN'T TELL ANYONE!!"

"Oh, Minerva!" Albus stood and tried to pull her into his arms, hoping to find that spot on her back, that if you rubbed her just right, would cause her to surrender. But she was too quick.

"NO, ALBUS!" Minerva shrieked, jerking back and resuming her pacing, this time in human form, "Don't try to placate me. I'm sick of having to hide this! I'm tired of having this men coming up to me and deliberately flirting with me! It's embarrassing! You know what Professor Fortinbras said today? He called me "covetously beautiful" and said he could never live with another man stealing me away! How was I to respond to that? Knowing he had just made a fool out of himself, but also knowing I would look foolish if spurned such an ardent suitor! What am I to do, Albus?" she whorled around to face her husband. The look in her eyes nearly rent his heart in two.

"Minerva, I'm sorry I've been so selfish. Such a beautiful, talented witch as yourself is bound to attract suitors. I wish there was some way I could make it easier for you. I'm sorry we're forced into such secrecy." Minerva collapsed into his arms, spent after her recent tirade. "Someday, Tabby, I promise you all the secrecy will be over. We'll have an enormous celebration of our marriage. We'll tell the whole world that simple Albus Dumbledore is married to the inexplicably, unfathomably gorgeous Minerva McGonagall, whose beauty triumphs the very rose. And we'll have a house in the country. And we'll write lots of letters to people, and you'll write articles for Transfigurations Weekly, and you know how you'll sign them?"

"Minerva Dumbledore," Came the weary, dreamy reply from the face buried in his shoulder.

"Yes, Minerva Dumbledore, Tabby," He grinned, "And there will be a lot more Dumbledores, too. Yes, we'll fill the house with shrieking, happy, marvelous children. And when their old enough, they'll go to Hogwarts and finally, we can have a student of our own… someone to be proud of…" 

"Albus, stop," Minerva moaned, "It's too perfect! And knowing it can never be makes it all the more unbearable. Let's just go to bed. At least here, in our rooms, I can be Minerva Dumbledore. And sleep will help me forget all the other dreams." 

"Dreams aren't to be forgotten, darling," Albus sighed, as he leaned in to kiss her forehead, "They are to be lived," He bent a little further, and the next few minutes hung on a passionate void as more was said in actions than in words, "Speaking of living your dreams. I spoke to the Minister about a reprieve from a certain Claus in the law."

Minerva's eyebrows rose, "Oh?"

"She's adamant," Albus answered with a dramatically resigned sigh, "She says we simply must have children."

"Does she now?" Minerva purred stepping toward the bedroom.

"And well, since we only have four years… Well, I think we should start trying as soon as possible." He finished matter-of-factly, following Minerva's every step.

"Anything you say, dear," Minerva sighed, closing the door to the bed room as he surreptitiously cast silencing charms on their quarters.

A/N And that's it for now folks. Lemon-lovers, I don't write lemons, so that's as far as it goes. Otherwise, this is just another installment, a rather boring one, but more (and better) to come. Reviews are always treasured. I will update as soon as I am able.


	6. Party

Disclaimer: Never mine. Always hers. (sigh)

The "Staff Mixer" was a night that went down in Hogwarts staff history. Most of the attendees drank a little too much, however, so the exact details could never be recounted. The results were indelibly printed on several marriage certificates, despite the haziness of the evening. Pomona Sprout ended up marrying a friend of Slughorn's who worked as a field agent for the Magical Flora division of the Ministry, Fillius Flitwick married Aurora Sinistra's older sister, while Sinistra herself married Markus McCorman, the Muggle studies teacher. Professor Slughorn was competing with Fortinbras for the most outrageous flirt award as he spent most of the evening in the vicinity of one of Professor Kettleburn's friends from the Daily Prophet. Not to be outdone, "Alex" spent almost the entire evening talking with, about, or praising, Minerva. He would parade her in front of all the other female party goers, introducing her as his "lovely, charming date." He studiously avoided the male members of the party, and jealously steered her away from the predominately male crowds. Minerva was entirely discomfited by his unwarranted jealousy, and nearly collapsed in relief when he announced he would locate a suitable drinks and hors d'oeuvres for the two of them.

This was the opportunity Poppy had been waiting for. She and Alastor had attended the party merely out of social interest, waiting to see what couples surfaced out of artificial melee. As soon as Alex detached from his date, Poppy rushed to Minerva's aide.

"Oh, Minerva!" Poppy sighed, "I've been listening to him the whole evening! The man has a silver-tongue! It's a wonder you haven't succumbed by now! He's so handsome and devilish and… dark!" she breathed. Noticing the glare she was getting from her friend, she backpedaled, "I mean, what a dreadful plight! How are we ever going to get him off of you? It must be such a trial to have such a passionate man so zealously pursuing you!"

"Poppy! Do you think I'm enjoying this?" Minerva seared in a contained burst, "Every time I look in Albus's direction I see the wounded look in his eyes. It pains him to see another man calling me his. I just want the night to be over!" She practically wailed, "As for his flattery, it's a bit overbearing! My head is beginning to swell from such merit less jealousy and praise!"

"It's not merit less, darling," Poppy murmured exasperatedly, "Fortinbras has good reasons to keep you away from other men. Or were you completely blind to the envious looks the men have been casting at his back? You're no plain face, Minerva. Your beauty is, quite truly, dangerous."

"I just hope Alex doesn't try to get me alone. That could lead to awkwardly unexplainable situations! Albus would be terribly put out!" Minerva fretted.

"Well, you'd better start figuring out a clever escape, because dear old Alex is coming back, and he's got a look of terrible purpose in his eyes." Poppy smiled as she stepped up to chat with Alex, hoping to delay Minerva's seemingly inevitable fate.

On the other side of the room, Albus Dumbledore was inwardly distraught. He tried to converse with Professor Vector's brother-in-law about the virtues of the Muggle calculator, but every word in his thoughts formed either an apology to Minerva or reproach to himself. _How could I have left her defenseless? Why didn't I stand up for myself? Was there any space between the two of them when they danced? How could Minerva breathe when his arm was around her waist so tightly?_ Of course, it never occurred to Albus that, on occasion, his arm had been pressed much more tightly around Minerva's waist. The only thought on his mind was how to steal her away for just one dance. He barely even noticed when Professor Vector's brother-in-law departed to pursue a young lady who had recently opened a robes shop in Diagon Alley.

What he did notice was when Alastor Moody pulled him away from his wife and forced him to occupy a chair, "Albus, I can't stand it anymore! Either you tell that woman you love her and ask her to marry you, or you let someone else have a chance!" Alastor burst in his usual blunt manner.

"Tell who… What???" Albus just then turned away from Minerva to look Moody squarely in the face, "Who are you talking about?"

"Oh, don't give me that, Albus Dumbledore! Your eyes have been frozen on McGonagall since she sashayed in on Fortinbras's arm," Moody explained impatiently, "It's terribly obvious to everyone but yourselves! Now, do you love her?" Moody said this last part quietly, leaning in conspiratorially.

"Love her? Alastor, she's far too young for me!" Albus protested, "But I do love her." He admitted, his eyes involuntarily shifting back to the dance floor, where his wife was unwillingly cheek to cheek with her sole partner for the evening.

"Good! Now that you've got that out, you just need to figure out a plan to sneak her away from the Fortinbras fellow," Alastor grinned, clapping Dumbledore on the shoulder, "Personally, I don't think he's to be trusted. His eyes are sort of shifty. Did you see that scar under his ear? That man's been places and caused trouble! Definitely not the right place for a lady like Minerva!"

"His record was rather sparse, but he was the only applicant. Rumor is beginning to circulate that we have a coursed Defense Against the Dark Arts position. But I have to say, Professor Fortinbras does give one the impression of having experienced the thick of battle. But I'm sure Minvera can take care of herself. She was an auror after all!" Albus nodded resignedly.

"I'm not talking about Minerva! I'm talking about you, Albus Dumbledore, taking care of yourself! Get yourself a wife, man! It's the law, for Merlin's sake! Now, the music's ending, get up there and ask for the next dance!" and before Albus could quite collect himself, Moody propelled him from the chair and towards the jealous glare of Alex Fortinbras.

Minerva turned her head to catch a glimpse of the object of her partner's displeasure and immediately had to fight the urge to fall into Albus's arms. Instead, she graciously, if somewhat stiffly (Alex Fortinbras had been holding her decidedly too tight), accepted his offer to dance. Any protests on the part of her date were silenced with Albus's benign, "Headmaster's privilege, you know!"

And the music began. It was a sweeping waltz, boisterous enough to cover Minerva's urging, pleading whispers. "Albus, why are you doing this? Do you realize how impossible it is for me to keep up a guise now?"

"Alastor Moody shoved me over here before I could react! But it's not so terrible, Tab-" He stopped as he felt Minerva unconsciously tense in his arms. He knew it would be awkward for his wife to dance with him in public, still pretending they were merely old friends. They usually avoided such activities in parties.

But to be here, now, in his arms, was almost the boiling point for Minerva McGonagall. She had been subjected to the ludicrous overtures of a decidedly good looking, silver tongued man. She had been held tight to his side for the past two hours. She had heard nothing but the sound of his sweeping, insipidly heroic locutions for well past that. And at this point, the familiar comfort of her husband's arms touching her in such a stiff, aberrant way was too much. Minerva was about to crack.

Just as she was about to seek a different partner for the remainder of the song, the music stopped; Albus, with a look of resigned dignity, bowed to her and glided out of the party. Only his wife saw his deeper, hidden expression of sorrow and regret.

Suddenly aware of a familiarly oppressive stare at her back, Minerva twisted on her heel to face Alex Fortinbras. His ire had evaporated; and at the sight of the roses which had blossomed in Minerva's cheeks, from emotions of which he was totally oblivious, he smiled once again. The party rambled on.

Finally, two hours later, Minerva, in the slightest of alcoholic hazes, decided to inform Alex of her need to retire. Professor Fortinbras, on the other hand, was amazingly drunk, so this was going to be quite a chore. Together, they tripped out of the dungeon rooms toward Minerva's door, Alex stopping to hiccup every few minutes.

When they reached the door to Minerva's room, Minerva muttered the unlocking charm, and was about to let the door swing open, when she noticed a hand leaning against the door just above her right shoulder.

Minerva McGonagall was slightly taller than the average witch. It only came as more of a shock, when she spiraled around, to look up into Professor Fortinbras's gleaming eyes. He had effectively pinned her to the door, and any move to open the door would cause "Alex" to fall on her, another uncomfortably position. The professor was inebriated to the point of giddiness. Minerva could tell, from his casual, yet predatory stance, that this was not just an innocuous attempt to steady himself.

"Mind if I come in?" She recoiled from the hideous smell of his alcohol drenched breath. Unfortunately, this allowed the door to swing open, and Fortinbras clumsily capered in, dragging Minerva with him.

_Where's Albus when you need him? _She thought desperately. Occasionally, there were moments she could swear Albus had been using his Legilimency to read her mind, especially when she was under duress, but he was well out of reach now. _Oh, Albus! Curse you, and the Minister and Slughorn and Volde- You-Know-Who and…Good Lord!_

Professor Fortinbras had craftily (for a drunk man anyway) whipped Minerva around into his embrace, effectively cutting off any escape. His lips were extended in hopes of picking a kiss. Minerva gagged at the reek of his breath. Just before his lips where brushing hers, Minerva twisted sideways, managing to gasp out, "Alex, I don't think I'm quite ready for this… everything's happening so fast, and…"

Almost as if her words had been a charm, Fortinbras released her and stepped back, arms dropping, quite soberly, to his side. "You're right, Minvera, this is ludicrous." There was a hint of a drunken whine, as sort of slur to his words. "What right has the bloody Ministry to force people together anyway? Why should anybody have the right to tell me," his arm swung up, one of his crooked, muscled fingers bouncing off his equally muscular chest, "that I have to get married? Who gives them the right to put me through this kind of pain? There's a reason I've always avoided the "fairer sex", you know…" he turned to sneer at a bewildered Minerva, who, out of exhaustion and shock, and sunk unto a nearby chair. "'Oh, yes, Professor Fortinbras, he's such a charmer!' That's what you say, isn't it you flock of gossiping birds!! Just let me show you the scars I earned for the woman I loved, that's real charm for you! I'll tell you how…"

Albus's impeccable timing kicked in once again. He bounded through the door, wand at the ready. A look of disgust crossed his face, as the overly-sloshed Professor limped around to face him.

"Oh, so you came to rescue fair Miss McGonagall from the advances of her over eager suitor, did you? Well, you can have her! I'm sick of the Ministry, and their filthy decrees!" Fortinbras ranted, shooting a fist up toward the ceiling. The momentum of this movement caught him unawares, and he fell stiffly into the firm grasp of the Headmaster. Albus carted him out the door. As he exited, he could be heard to shout, "I've had it with women!"

When Albus returned, he found Minerva still staring in shock at the place where Fortinbras had nearly tumbled to the floor. Scooping her up, he transferred her to her bed. He quickly transformed her robes into a comfortable pair of flannel pajamas, and tucked her under the covers.

"Albus?" Minerva ventured as he walked around to the other side of the bed, "Can you really read my mind all the time?"

"Minerva, whenever you truly need me, I will come as quickly as humanly possible." He said this with such a warm, serene sincerity, Minerva couldn't help but sigh as his arms ensconced her, completing the feeling.

"Albus, Fortinbras mentioned that he had loved a woman once, and fought for her. Do you…?" She let the question hang on the inquiring look she turned up to him.

"I only know he's very skilled with the dark arts, but is very careful with their use. He's adamant about fighting dark wizards. I've even considered including him in the Order of the Phoenix, once I get to know him better. He's a very skilled fighter, Tabby," Albus conceded to Minerva's look of revulsion.

"Yes, well, let's hope his skills are relegated to the battle field."


	7. The Burrow

A/N yes, it's been a while, but that's my life, very irregular, random, wait… were was I? Oh yeah, this story will continue, I do Love Your Reviews! Thanks to my two faithful reviewers (you know who you are… wink, wink) Here it goes…

Disclaimer: I'm not JKR (however, in my next lifetime…)

Saturday morning brought severe hangovers, much confusion among the staff, and a general amount of embarrassingly unexplainable situations. Minerva winced every time she turned a corner, afraid of encountering Fortinbras (who, she had convinced herself, was raving mad.). But breakfast did not provide an encounter with him. Instead, the Great Hall was eerily void of adult wizards and witches. The few Professors alive enough to make an attempt at food were Slughorn, who looked disgustingly pleased with himself when he saw the lack of staff members, Vector, Dumbledore, and McGonagall, who actually relaxed and enjoyed her scrambled eggs when she noted Fortinbras' absence.

The students were fairly busy with homework that weekend, as many Professors had been out of sorts from the Ministry decree and decided to share their humor with the student population. Minerva was knee deep in research for an article in Transfigurations Weekly. She was in her element, away from the frustrating buzz of the classroom, far from annoying ministry officials, and better still, far from overly drunk…

Her work was interrupted by a knock at the door. Minerva's feline instincts kicked in, her shoulders were instantly at her ears. It couldn't be Albus, he never bothered to knock. No one from the order was supposed to be seeing her, which only left….

"Come in," it was more of a concession than an invitation.

Exactly as she expected, Alexander Fortinbras slowly, painfully walked through the door to be blinded by sunlight. Minerva didn't even glance in the direction of the curtains. _People who loose control will have to pay for it sooner or later._ She quipped to herself.

"Hello, Professor," Minerva challenged, rising abruptly in lieu of inviting her "guest" to sit down.

"Hello…" Alex stopped, gathered himself together, and seemed to remember his purpose, "All right, Minerva. I have come to apologize, I was terribly forward last night. I was pigheaded, jealous, overbearing, and egotistic. I'm sorry you were caught in the middle of it. I'm sorry I tried to force myself on you, I have mad a fool of myself. I have come to ask you forgiveness, and beg for a chance to start over…"seeing Minerva's tense stance he amended, "as friends."

His entire person was so foreign, so aberrant, that for a moment, Minerva simply blinked, trying to process this change in character. He was no longer flattering her repetitively. His eyes were still mysterious and tempestuous, but their former passion was supplanted by a genuine regret, and a tinge of distant sorrow. He truly seemed contrite and, for the first time since Minerva had seen him, sincere.

"I believe both of us would like to forget last night… Alex…" she paused to weigh the effect of returning the use of given names, "I would like to continue to get to know you better, but I must warn you…" she held her hand up to stop the relief flickering on Fortinbras' face. Something glinting caught her eye. _My ring!_ she inwardly shrieked at her carelessness. She and Albus always slept with their rings on, and she usually wore it on weekends when she would be away. But this morning she had forgotten to remove it. She quickly pulled her hand back. It was too late.

"Minerva," Fortinbras' face had suddenly grown darker, the shadow of pain in his eyes grew more prominent. "Why are you wearing a wedding ring?"

There was an awkward rebound where Minerva processed the situation and attempted to form a cover story in a few seconds.

"It's all right, you don't have to lie to me. You're married. How stupid of me! If I had looked…" He turned away from her, frustrated and disgusted with his double shame. Not only had he tried to force a woman to kiss him last night, but this woman was someone else's wife!

"If you had looked, you would have found nothing," Minerva finally started to accept the new Alex and glided around her desk to talk to him. "Only four other people know about this marriage. It is a preciously guarded secret, and I was slightly careless just now. I'm sorry I couldn't tell you Alex, but there is much at stake in the secrecy of this marriage. I must ask that you tell no one at all. I am sorry if I have hurt you in any way."

For a few breaths, Alex's face jumped from pain to regret to anger to sorrow.

"I did love you, you know," He whispered, as though all his anger had drained him of a voice, "It wasn't all an act last night. You are so beautiful, intelligent and compassionate. I guess I should have suspected something when someone as wonderful as you had remained single this long." He turned and walked toward the door.

"Alex!" Minerva suddenly felt like a cowardly backstabber. The Professor stopped and pivoted around, "I would still like to be friends!" she offered him the most kindhearted of smiled.

"Of course, Minerva, friends," He returned the smile reluctantly, and as he returned to his departure threw back, "Tell your husband, whoever he is, that he's the luckiest man in the world."

The next two months seemed quite a rush as everybody was getting ready for exams, and end of term, and holidays. Minerva had a pleasant conversation with one of her former pupils, Molly Weasley, when both women had stopped in Diagon Alley to prepare for the Christmas Holidays. Molly's brothers, Gideon and Fabian Prewitt, were both members of the Order. Dumbledore had invited Molly and Arthur to join, but both wanted to avoid combat and risks as they had recently started a family. Little Bill was just over a year old and got into trouble regularly. Minerva had kept in touch with Molly since she had left Hogwarts, and had been one of Bill's more frequent baby sitters. When Minerva encountered Molly in Diagon Alley, they began discussing various Holiday plans. To Minerva's chagrin, she had little to tell. She and Albus usually spent the Holidays in Hogwarts, but recently he had promised a getaway for her, and she was hoping it would payoff at Christmastide. Molly didn't know about Minerva and Albus' marriage, so her intentions were entirely pure when she asked if Minerva would be spending Christmas alone.

"Well actually, Albus and I usually spend Christmas together as a sort of tradition," she explained, lamely.

"Well, you see, Arthur and I just got settled into this lovely old house out in the country. It's called the Burrow. It's very roomy, and well, so far, my older twin brothers will be coming. But with such a big house, it seems a shame to not fill it up! It wouldn't be anything spectacular, but a nice cozy meal. And, apart from Gideon and Fabian, fairly pleasant company," Minerva smiled, Molly's brothers were such a handful! "It would be lovely if you, and Dumbledore as well, would join us out in our new house!"

"That does sound so peaceful! I would love to! I'll Dumbledore about it, and then I'll send you an owl, letting you know!" Minerva sighed. A whole Holiday away from the students, away from the pranks and noise…If only Albus would agree!

Albus, meanwhile was working out order business. Voldemort had been unusually inactive of late, and this worried Dumbledore. He was sure Voldemort was pulling back for a larger strike, but he wasn't sure where or when. As a result he had to constantly stay in contact with the various members of the order scattered across the country. He had not found anything as of yet…

Abraxas Malfoy was a sharper than most other men his age. It was he that had seen Voldemort at his true potential so early on in his promising career. It was he that had seen fit to expose him to valuable sources of information. It was he that was now inside the ministry doing some detailed research on the infamous Albus Dumbledore. Over the years, he had developed quite a strong relationship with the ministry. It was important to maintain a smiling public face for the mob. _Donate to the right causes, support the right candidates, finance a few improvements, and the entire Ministry will roll over at your feet. _These were his thoughts as he ferreted out Albus Dumbledore's deepest secrets. Voldemort had wanted a way to make Albus Dumbledore bow to him. There had to be some weakness, a loved one, a past misdeed, something the Dark Lord could use to bring the most powerful wizard of the age to his knees. Abraxas had been discreetly searching for a week, and was close to running out of resources, when he suddenly found a very recent entry in the most unexpected department. _Finally! I've found my treasure! The Dark Lord will crush Dumbledore's very foundation! _He stuffed the file in his cloak.

Albus had agreed to spend the Holidays with the Weasleys. However, he first visited Arthur personally, and explained to him that he and Minerva were married, to avoid awkward situations later. The Weasleys were a trustworthy, fiercely loyal family, and Dumbledore felt safe giving them his and Minerva's secret. Arthur had promised to explain the situation to Gideon and Fabian, who were both as upright and dependable as the Weasleys.

Minerva had packed their trunk and was fluttering around Albus' quarters ecstatic at the prospect of a holiday from the school. In addition, Minerva was looking forward to playing with Bill. She had always enjoyed toddlers and regretted not making more of an effort to start a family with Albus. But she and Bill would be thick as thieves this holiday, all ready he was trying to lisp out her name, though it only came out as a decided, "'Va!" whenever he say her. Minerva was not relishing the thought of staying in the same house as the Prewitt twins, however. She had begun teaching at the end of their fourth year, and they saw to it she had an adventurous first term. At the end of their seventh year, Minerva was ready to resign. But Albus had persuaded her that she had seen the worst of it, and besides, they were leaving now. Then he had proposed to her, and nothing else had mattered after that. Fabian and Gideon now served as a team in the Auror department of the Ministry. Poor Alastor had complained more than once to the Order that those two boys caused more trouble than then entire department put together. But they were incredible fighters, and they had designed some innovative espionage equipment that made them invaluable to the Auror department. More than once, they had proved the stumbling block for Voldemort's plans.

Albus rushed in to the room in a flurry of robes. _Three days before Christmas, and the man is still managing Order business!_ Minerva smiled in exasperation as she extended her hand for him to clasp

"Are you ready to go?" Albus asked after he had greeted her with the customary kiss.

"I've got everything, dear. As well as several extra pairs of wool socks!" Minerva grinned as he pulled her in for a grateful hug.

"Minerva Dumbledore, you are my anchor!" he beamed.

Together, they walked outside the grounds and neatly disappeared into the night.

Once they had gotten settled in at the Burrow, Albus and Minerva moved into the adorably comfortable and invitingly informal kitchen to spend the dregs of the night catching up with their younger hosts.

The room was cozy and filled with all sorts of mouse-like holes, which, in time, Minerva imagined would be filled with the treasures of tiny little redheads. The fireplace gave the entire space a glow that warmed the clean, but tired stone that poured out over the entire floor. The kitchen table was extensive, also giving the impression that Bill would be the first in a long line of Weasleys. The table was sturdy, with a stoic brown wood that leant the room a taste of permanence, as if the entire space was gearing up for several decades of sieges by smiling, hungry little mouths. All in all, the air was peaceful, and somehow more fresh than the feel of Hogwarts. This house had yet to make its memories.

They talked about Arthur's new job at the Ministry. He seemed very pleased to be working in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts division, even though Minerva secretly thought that a very dull job. Arthur fairly glowed as he described to them how he had handled a Muggle electric torch once, when a malignant wizard had charmed it to make the user's eyes glow. Molly began talking about Bill's latest escapade involving a pair of garden shoes and his father's wand. He had actually gotten the wand to charm the shoes to tap dance for a little while. Abruptly the conversation reversed itself, when Arthur made a request.

"You see, Minerva," He began, "We haven't quite finished our Christmas shopping yet, what with Bill around all the time. And since it's only two more days 'til Christmas, Molly and I were wondering… well…"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Arthur! Just ask her!" Molly turned to look across the table, "Minerva, we were wondering if you and Albus would be up for looking after Bill while Arthur and I run a few late errands in Diagon Alley?"

Minerva was delighted. Lately the idea of having a toddler around had become more and more appealing. Ever since the Ministry decree, the strict professor had caught her mind listing into daydreams of a family. It wasn't such an awful idea after all. Maybe a little intimidating, but definitely something Minerva was starting to ponder.

To her left, Albus looked a little leery, "Minerva, I shall have to be gone tomorrow, on…"

"On Order business," She finished for him, slightly disgusted, "This close to a holiday, Albus? Ah, well, I can handle the bairn by myself for a day."

Swooping in with a chill wind from outside an enormous racket flung the door open in what sounded like a veritable explosion of singing and laughter. Fabian and Gideon sashayed over the threshold, singing a Christmas carol rather loudly, and mostly off-key. They were dressed in matching, apparently hand-knitted, hats, scarves and mittens, their noses the color of a frosty apple. Pulling their hats off, Minerva saw that their hair was of a congruent shade, and the sight brought slightly horrifying memories to mind. Together, the duet, finished the song with a near tone-splitting attempt at harmony, and piled onto their sister, wrapping her in snow-dusted arms.

"Fabian, Gideon! You Comedians! Quiet! Or you'll wake your nephew!!" Molly hissed, trying desperately to pull the two lanky jokers into a seat at the table.

"Sorry, Molly darling," Fabian smiled, putting on a face that shone of mock innocence. "We don't want to wake Billy Boy!"

"Yeah, we promise to be as quiet as mice!" Gideon leaned in closer to the conversation, whispering studiously.

"Oh, you're not fooling anybody, y'clowns!" Arthur smiled, "Look, since you're here, we were just asking Minerva if she'd be willing to watch Bill while we did some shopping in Diagon Alley. Since you pair have shown up, why don't you stick around tomorrow and give her a hand?"

At the thought of receiving Fabian and Gideon's "help" Minerva cringed.

Gideon noticed, because he leaned a little closer to his former professor and solemnly stated, "Don't worry, professor, will help you with the little tyke! He can be quite a handful sometimes! Don't we know, Fawby?" Fabian nodded sagaciously, "We've kidnapped the little squirt a few times, and let me tell you, there's more energy in that half-pint than in the both of us put together. So don't worry, professor, we are here to help make up for all past indiscretions…" The collective reaction to his choice of words was instantaneous. Gideon coughed pointedly, Fabian cleared his throat, Arthur shock his exasperated expression, Albus grinned, Minerva winced, and Molly simply look mortified, "by helping you keep our nephew in line tomorrow." The mock sobriety of his tone had softened Minerva a little. Perhaps she could enjoy their sense of humor, now that she was no longer on the receiving end of the twin's pranks.

"Well, that's settled then," Fabian shot up from his chair, "Sis, I'm dead tired! Where do I lay me down for my beauty sleep?"

"Yeah, if we're going to be wrestling your monster of a kid all day," Gideon teased, grinning at her, "We have to get as much rest as possible before he rips us to shreds tomorrow!"

"Oh, bugger off, you two! You're more trouble than Bill is, and you're over ten times his age! Now, follow me," She said as she marshaled them out of the kitchen.

Albus smiled, "Shall we head to bed as well, dear?" He snaked an arm around her waist.

"After you, darling," She stretched in a feline style while Albus moved to the door, "It will be so nice to not have students banging at the door in the middle of the night!" She sighed as she fell into Albus's outstretched arm.

Still sitting before the fire, Arthur shivered aberrantly, "As long as I live, I don't think I'll ever get used to the idea of the those two being married!"

A/N: TBC Please Review!


	8. Patrol

Disclaimer: Harry Potter is not mine.

A/N Thank you for the flood of Amazing Reviews!! I shall try to be more prompt with updates from now on. I am excited about this chapter! Here you go! Oh, by the way… when you get done there's this little button at the bottom that say "SUBMIT REVIEW" it would be lovely if you would just hit that and drop me a note telling me what you think, I will try to apply any suggestions.

So far, the world had not ended. It was just past lunch time, which meant that Minerva had made it through over five hours with the Prewett twins. She hadn't lost her temper, and in return, Fabian and Gideon hadn't blown up the Burrow…yet. Albus had suggested that she make a brief visit to Hogwarts to check that everything was in order. Minerva was becoming rather fed up with his overwhelming paranoia about Voldemort attacking over the holidays. Personally, Minerva saw this quiet spell as a sort of gift from the better side of the universe, a time to collect herself and enjoy life. However, she had agreed to inspect the castle's perimeter. The professor decided that she could make a party out of it by bringing a sled along that the twins could use to pull Bill around the grounds. As soon as Bill woke up, everybody was going to get bundled up in winter gear and get outside for some exercise. It was McGonagall's plan to wear the Prewetts out with dragging Bill on the sled, then they would be slightly more mellow on their return to the house. Years of teaching had provided Minerva McGonagall with a sharp, keenly focused mind, and now that mind was focused solely on keeping Molly's brothers too busy to plan mischief.

Minerva sighed as she allowed herself to relax into the bed. Pulling her book, a Muggle novel called Christmas Carol which she and Albus read every Christmas, before her eyes, she began to read. Before she had reached the entrance of Scrooge's Nephew, Minerva was interrupted by a terrible banging sound downstairs. Leaping up so fast her glasses flew halfway down her nose, the seasoned teacher dashed down the stairs to the kitchen, where she discovered two slightly awed wizards, their red hair on end, staring at a little pile of ash down at the other end of the table.

"What on earth?!" Minerva took off for a wonderful lecture, completely forgetting that these boys were no longer her students. Apparently they had forgotten too, for at the sight of the terribly powerful Minerva McGonagall gliding down on them, Gideon and Fabian nervously quaked in their seats.

As if in a cliché script, Bill picked that moment to let the world know he was tired of being in his crib. With a parting glare, Minerva ascended to the sobbing face of the littlest Weasley. She located Bill's winter clothes, and set about dressing him. Two very sheepish uncles peered in, and, seeing this as their chance to amend, instantaneously tackled their nephew, feigning exceptional skill in the dressing of toddlers. The professor snickered to herself at the thought of those two handling a baby, but decided to let them do their part, while going around collecting her winter gear and looking for a suitable trinket to change into a sled.

Within the hour, they were ready to depart. Gideon and Fabian had both donned their precious, hand knitted gifts, and Bill looked like a great, blue balloon with all the layers of cloaks, hats and mitten they had stuffed him into. Minerva had her wand, and as the Prewetts were Aurors they always carried theirs. Swooping up Bill, Minerva left the newly converted sled for the boys to handle as she aparrated to Hogwarts. Muttering the enchantment to let her through, the Deputy Headmistress allowed the twins to pass behind her as she surveyed the area.

It was that time of the year when the sun decides to take his leave a little earlier than is conducive to outdoor activities. The air was frigid, as if sensing the imminent blackness that was about to engulf it. The wind clipped through hedges, whispering a hasty warning of the coming night. Minerva saw all this and decided to pick up the pace. They had worked their way around past the Quidditch pitch, the castle and the greenhouses, and were moving down to inspect the vegetable patch. Minerva sighed in relief. Subconsciously, the skittish, silence of their patrol, Albus's apprehension and the stress of the recent Ministry decree, had all had their effect on her nerves. The professor caught herself jumping at the smallest movement.

As she rounded the corner of the last green house, all of Minerva's worst fears congealed. A group of five death eaters hovered around the wall outside the vegetable plot. Even though the wall was of waist high stone, it marked the edge of the powerful enchantments that protected the castle. The air was lit with the spells each death eater tried to cast to disarm the protection. Even a purple light flashed among the rest. Every muscle in Minerva's body prepared itself for intense action. She had been an Auror, after all, she had developed these responses from years of meticulous training. Fortunately, they had not been spotted yet, and fell unnoticed back behind the greenhouse.

Sizing up the dark group's actions, Gideon whispered, "They must be testing Hogwart's defenses, trying to find a weak point!"

"Albus was right! Voldemort is planning something! We've got to put a stop to this! If they get into Hogwarts… We have to do something!" Minerva declared as she made to march for the sortie.

Before she could move, Fabian put a hand on her shoulder and whispered quickly, "Take Bill inside, make sure he's safe. Gideon and I can hold things down till you get back."

"But that's Anton Dolohov out there! He's all ready killed at least four others with that internal-damage spell! That's not even including the other four wizards with him!" Minerva hissed back.

"Please, Minerva! Protect our nephew! He deserves the chance to grow up!" there was a momentary flash of something wistful in Gideon's eyes, and suddenly, Minerva realized just how mature and brave these men were. "Now go!" he finished, pushing the dazed toddler into his professor's arms, "And we'll try not to wipe all of them out before you get back." He grinned, throwing his humorous guise back on as he and his brother stepped around the corner.

Minerva gave them one last, admiring look, before dashing like mad back to the castle. Leaping with a grace only a feline animagus could master, the transfigurations teacher bounded up flights of stairs till she reached her room. Placing Bill gently on the bed, she muttered, "_Petrificus totalus"_ and ran to her desk. Minerva dashed off an explanation, before reversing her steps to the sight of the fully pitched battle.

The twins stood back-to-back, sending jinxes, counter jinxes and shields faster than the eye could work. They were surrounded by a glow of magic and a ring of death. All ready, the Deputy could see that the aurors had taken a hit from Dolohov. Fabian's legs were giving out, forcing him to lean against his brother. Two of the death eaters were down, both knocked unconscious and showing no signs of ever waking again. But the twins were lagging. Dolohov was still standing, and the other two death eaters were powerful fighters by the looks of things.

Minerva used the element of surprise to distract her target. She had all ready decided that she would tackle Dolohov. With him gone, the Prewetts could fight the remaining Death Eaters one on one. At this point, Fabian and Gideon looked haggard, on their last burst of energy. McGonagall fired a jinx straight at Dolohov's back. This caught him off guard momentarily. Minerva set herself up in a good fighting stance. Dolohov lunged at her, but Minerva was ready. Back and forth the curses flew, each skillfully deflected. Minerva was getting pushed away from the twins and into the forest. She was worried about them. Fabian had looked ready to collapse. Dolohov read this weakness in an instant and pushed her farther into the wood. He fired a curse at her as she tired to regain sight of the battle. It gashed just below her shoulder, falling just above her heart. When the inevitable final scream came from the battle behind, he was ready. The professor froze at the sound of someone's last agony, this was a fatal mistake. Her steal-hearted attacker fired his infamous purple curse straight to her stomach, and Minerva crumpled to the ground, senseless with pain. Dolohov ran from the scene, going to finish up the remains of the battle.

Just before she blacked out completely, Minerva heard the sound of horses' hooves nearby, and felt a strong pair of arms lift her from the ground. The pain seared through her body again, stealing all consciousness.

Minerva was in trouble. Albus knew that. He had known it for an hour now. He had summoned Fawkes to find her, but no one had been at the Burrow. That meant she was at Hogwarts. Albus felt a lead ball drop to the pit of his stomach. This was exactly what he had feared. It had been his hope that sending Minerva inside Hogwarts' protective walls would prevent an attack. Now, as he reunited with the Weasleys at Hogwarts' front gate, he knew that his fears were realized.

"I'll search by the caretaker's hut and the forbidden forest," Albus dictated, "Arthur, you search around the Quidditch pitch. Molly, you search the castle. Both of you have your wands ready. Send up red sparks if you see anything. I don't know what will find. I only know Minerva is in trouble."

Each of them pursued their search. Desperately hoping to find nothing, or better yet, see a smiling familiar face assuring them that Dumbledore was wrong. But Dumbledore was never wrong.

Albus found the battle scene first. He immediately sent up red sparks, At the sight of the twins, his heart broke. Gideon lay next to Fabian, his hand reaching out for his brother's, just short of its goal. A few feet away lay the bodies of two Death Eaters. Albus looked and discovered two more lay some distance beyond that. He began to breathe again when he had confirmed that Minerva was not strewn among the cadavers.

He found footprints in the snow that led away from the battle. There were two sets of shoes, one Minerva's (he knew her step anywhere) and the other that of a tall man. He dashed along the trail, never hesitating. Arthur caught up with him, a look of horror on his face.

"Who?" was all he could manage before turning to wretch into the nearest bush.

"Four death eaters, and Gideon and Fabian. I'm sorry, Arthur." Albus slowed to comfort the shocked wizard.

"Four? Gideon and Fabian? Dead? Minerva?" each of these questions was made in a hasty, breathless whisper, as they returned to their pursuit.

"I don't know. I'm hoping that I'll know at the end of …." He stopped. The tracks became muddled. There was blood in the snow. Suddenly, Albus felt like wretching too. But where was Minerva? Her attacker's footprints had turned away there, but there was no body… nothing.

"Wait, Dumbledore! Over here" Arthur said from the other side of the sanguine scene. Albus perused the area. Horses' hoof-prints.

"Centaurs!" Albus whispered. Immediately, Albus called out, "Firenze! Bane! Where are you?" Albus felt dizzy. Was Minerva dead? Was he too late? After he had promised her he would always be there, had he failed her?

There was a sound of hooves. Dumbledore whirled to face them. Bane stepped out of the terrible darkness. He looked morosely solemn.

"Where is Minerva?" Albus beseeched the centaur's marble visage.

"She is with Firenze. He is bringing her now." Bane merely answered.

Another set of hoof beats, slightly heavier, more leaden than the first, sounded. Albus faced them with a feeling of morbid determination.

There, swept in the Centaur's muscle ridden arms, was a limp bundle of tartan. There was a gash of bright red which, as Albus stepped closer, appeared to be on his wife's shoulder. As he beheld her face, Albus noticed the trickle of blood at the corner of her sweet lips. Horrified, Dumbledore stumbled back to look imploringly at the centaur.

"Do not worry, Dumbledore, she will live," Firenze intoned, "However, whether or not the child she carries will survive this attack is beyond my skill to determine."

A/N I hate to do this to you folks, but that's all for now. It's way, way, way past my bedtime. Now remember our little deal about the lovely little REVIEW button (wink, wink, nudge, nudge.) Thanks for reading, and yes… I promise to update soon!!!! (Really, really soon.)


	9. The Terrible Dawn

Disclaimer: All the world is a stage, and these characters belong to JKR, I'm just playing the part of her fan.

A/N SO SO Sorry for keeping all you lovely people waiting. My life is filled with much insanity.

Horrified, Albus stared at the limp figure in the centaur's arms. It was most definitely his Minerva; the cord of black hair that fell from her bloodied face assured him of that. Preempting the urge to panic, Dumbledore gently retrieved his wife from the centaur.

"Thank you, Firenze. If there is ever anything I can do…" Albus muttered distractedly, more a formality than anything else. His entire focus was his wife. Dumbledore had to get her the infirmary until she could safely be taken to St. Mungo's. As he moved toward Hogwarts, his mind raced to form a plan of action. _Well, she has a pulse, _Albus began strategizing, _It appears Firenze has stopped the worst of the bleeding. She must have internal injuries, though, if she's coughed up blood. What about a child?_ He lurched as the impact of the centaur's statement was realized. Abruptly shaking his head he continued, _No, no time to think about that now. Just help Minerva, Albus, just help Minerva. _

Dumbledore had taken the most direct route to the castle. On the way into the building, he passed Molly Weasley. He did not even stop to acknowledge the terror that blanketed Molly's face at the sight of his burden. Molly ran toward the field of scattered cadavers; while Albus pressed harder towards the castle. The night was slit with a horrific scream, as Molly discovered the bodies of her brothers, but the Headmaster did not hear. He was in the infirmary, shouting to wake Poppy Pomfrey.

Mere seconds later, a befuddled medi-witch stumbled into the infirmary. All sense of bleariness was lost the moment Madame Pomfrey saw Minerva. Immediately, she was awakened to her duties. She contacted St. Mungo's to get an emergency transfer team. She bustled around to the cabinets gathering antiseptics to clean up the wound on Minerva's shoulder. She bent over Minerva preparing to begin, when she noticed the blood massing at the edges of Minerva's mouth.

"Albus…." Poppy began, a terrible kind of fear in her voice, "I don't think she's going to…" 

"No! Poppy, listen to me. The centaurs found her and took care of her. They promised me she would recover. Centaurs know about these sorts of things!" Albus shouted looking hopelessly disheveled.

Apparently the noise had aroused Poppy's husband, Alastor Moody. He came bounding from the room at when Albus raised his voice. "What's going on?" He demanded.

"There's been an attack on Hogwart's grounds. At least five death eaters fought against the Prewett twins and Minerva. Minerva was severely injured, four death eaters are dead…"

"And the twins?" Poppy asked quietly, as she went about cleaning Minerva up.

"Dead." Albus stated, blankly. It was all a dream, some terribly distorted dream. He was going to wake up, and his wife would be fine. The Prewett twins would be making a horrible racket in the Burrow's kitchen and Molly would be howling at them to settle down.

"I'm going out to survey the battle," Moody concluded, zipping Albus back to reality, "Where was the fight, Albus?"

"Behind the greenhouses," The Headmaster echoed dully.

"Be careful, Alastor!" Poppy cried, stopping her work to give him a worried kiss. Alastor strode from the room filled with a morbid sense of purpose.

"You'd better go escort the St. Mungo's team in, Albus," Poppy gently suggested, the poor man looked completely stricken.

"Yes, of course," Albus answered faintly, drifting toward the door.

The rest of the night was a pageant of gruesome nightmares. Molly Weasley fainted from the shock and was taken to the infirmary as well. Alastor contacted the Ministry and several officials jumped to the scene to begin an investigation. Arthur fearfully guarded over his sleeping son and his sorrowing wife. Little Bill slept blissfully oblivious to the tragedy that scarred the night. Poppy simply tended the living and quietly wept for the dead. The staff was awakened and set on patrols of the corridors. Albus stood by his wife's side all through the night.

When dawn broke that sorrowful Christmas Eve, the world was not prepared for the ghastly events of the previous night to be garishly displayed in broad daylight. The sound of birds singing in the forest was completely incongruous with the disturbed murmurs of the Ministry officials who examined the battle scene. The cheerful noise of the students at breakfast seemed oxymoronic when one heard the terrible, bereft sobbing of Molly Weasley. As Albus held Minerva's hand, the slim spear of sunlight that shot across his wife's bed made her all ready alarmingly pale palor decline to a shade comparable that of a corpse.

Albus was forced to return to the school before any conclusion was reached on Minerva's condition. He had not yet mentioned Firenze's comment. Centaurs were generally regarded as little better then mountebanks in the medical profession. Still, Albus couldn't scrub the voice from his mind, _"whether or not the child she carries will survive this attack is beyond my skill to determine." _How could he concentrate with that dire pronouncement floating around his mind? He managed to teach all of Minerva's classes and still keep his focus. The Headmaster stepped out of the class room at the end of the day, preparing to depart for St. Mungo's, when he was stopped by the most unlikely person.

"Dumbledore!" Alexander Fortinbras shouted as he tramped toward the Professor, "Where is Professor McGonagall? We were told about the attack, but where is she now? I would like to see her…" His voice died away as he caught the faintest glimmer of a disguised emotion in Dumbledore's face. Was the Headmaster jealous? To prevent any misunderstanding, Fortinbras amended, "We've become friends recently, and I am concerned."

"She is currently at St. Mungo's. However, I was forced to leave before they reached a firm prognosis. I will be returning as soon I finish up matters here." Dumbledore replied somewhat coldly. He had not forgotten the incident after Slughorn's party.

Sensing the Headmaster's displeasure, Fortinbras decided to leave the man alone, "Yes, well…" His eyes darted apprehensively around, looking for a smooth way out of the conversation, "When you see her… Tell her… I hope she gets better." He finished lamely.

"Don't we all?" Dumbledore smiled sadly, feeling a hint of compassion for this man. After all, they had one thing in common. Both were smitten by Minerva's copious charm.

Alastor had finished at the scene of the battle. The Ministry had its records, the Department of Aurors would get its report and two of its members would have to be catalogued (such a cold, harsh word for the heroic deed these boys had fulfilled) as killed in action. He sighed as he leaned into the infirmary door. He was greeted by quiet sobbing coming from the corner where Molly Weasley sat with her husband. He heard the rustling of Poppy's robes from the office, followed by the squeak of a toddler's laughter. _Children are such funny things,_ he pondered, _In the midst of a massacre they can still blithely giggle and smile about the tiniest things. _

Stepping into the office, he stood behind his wife, wrapping his arms around her.

"Did you get everything settled?" Poppy asked quietly, trying not to disturb Bill's absent minded chunering.

"The bodies were all taken care of, and most of the blood's been cleaned up. We're still not quite sure how or why it all happened, but we'll know as soon as Minerva," he felt the medi-witch's shoulders tense at the mention of her best friend. "Poppy, where is Minerva? What's wrong with her?"

"That's just it, Alastor!" She groaned tiredly, turning around to face her husband "I've never seen anything like it. There was internal bleeding, but she didn't appear to have hit anything! And then her shoulder, I don't know what the centaur did to it, but it looked like it could have been serious trouble. It had the looks of a spell that resisted healing charms. I thought for sure I would have to fight to heal it. But it was healed before the St. Mungo's team arrived."

"Well, I can answer you questions about the internal bleeding. There's a death eater by the name of Anton Dolohov, nasty devil. He's got this curse, see, that shoots purple jets of light that just tear you up inside. There's very few spells that will block it, I've seen it kill many a good fighter. We knew he was there when we saw the state of the Prewett twins. But as for the centaurs, well, Albus has always had a wilder side to him, and I wouldn't put it past him to befriend a centaur, it was probably some of their ancient magic that healed Minerva."

They stood in cathartic silence, merely following the random actions of the little boy playing on the rug.

"Molly is devastated." Poppy sighed, leaning into Alastor's chest.

"Well, she has a good, strong partner to help her through this, and many caring friends. It is a shame though, that two such young, talented, brilliant boys should die before their time. Even for all I complained about them, they still amazed me with some of their strategies and gadgets. They were a credit to their family and courageous, honorable men, the world is the worse for their loss." Poppy's tears finally came, in tiny rivulets down her cheeks as she buried her face in Alastor's coat. In the next room, the sniffling could still be heard. Bill clapped his hands, wondering why nobody was yelling at him for playing with Poppy's wand.

Albus swooped into the ward at St. Mungo's, perching on the over-stuffed armchair he conjured next to her bed. A few minutes later, a young, pleasant looking healer appeared. Albus sat up and began preparing himself for the worst. He started to question torrentially, "How is she, Healer? Will she make it? What happened to her? Has she regained consciousness yet?"

"Please, Professor, one thing at a time! Now, Minerva is stable for now. We were able to stop the internal bleeding and finish healing her shoulder. But we still haven't managed to heal all the internal damage. It looks as if she will pull through this mostly unharmed. It appears as though she was attack with Anton Dolohov's infamous internal injury spell. I can't tell you how many patients we've lost to that." Seeing the terror on Albus' face at his last remark, the Healer reversed, "But, not to worry, Minerva will be fine. As for regaining consciousness, that hasn't happened yet, but we expect her to wake up sometime today. She was suffering from severe bloodloss, and we were able to handle that. Any other concerns or questions?" 

_I'll just ask him, now, _Albus decided, _That way I can stop worrying about it all together. _"There was one thing…" He staggered to a start, "You see, Minerva was rescued by centaurs," Noting the shock on the Healer's face he added, "They live in the Forbidden Forest. But they are very skilled healers. The one that returned Minerva to me mentioned something about a child. He said something like, 'whether or not the child she carries will survive is beyond my skill to say.'" _Something like,_ Albus chided himself, _you've repeated the exact phrase in your head all day, _"He seemed quite certain that Minerva was pregnant."

The Healer was slightly taken aback at this. After all, Albus and Minerva's marriage was not common knowledge. He blushed furiously at the thought of one of his former professors being an "unwed mother", especially strict old McGonagall, who used to frown if she caught students holding hands, "I-I-I-I don't know, Professor, it had never even occurred to us to… I'll get on it right away, just wait here!" He stumbled out of the room.

Albus couldn't help but smile distractedly at the boy's reaction. _It would be odd checking to see if your former professor was pregnant,_ he mused. He turned back to his wife and gently lifted her hand from the bed. It was aberrantly cold, but not quite a deathly cold. There were a few scratches on her face that had yet to heal completely, and her shoulder was swaddled in an enormous bandage. Her hair had been gently braided to keep it out of the way, probably Poppy's handy work. His eye unwontedly drifted down to her stomach. To think she had nearly died from something he couldn't even see! And what of the child? Had Anton Dolohov claimed the life of another victim before it was even realized? He had always wanted chidren, and he knew Minerva did as well. It had been their deep misfortune to be under constant scrutiny from the public eye, and the occurrence of the apparently-single transfigurations Professor bearing child would cause too much publicity. It someone like Voldemort ever found out about such a thing, the little one would never stand a chance. And as much as he and Minerva had wanted a child, they were not willing to pit a baby against that.

The youthful healer returned, with an older, gray haired healer in tow.

"Ah, Morton Bancroft! It is good to see you," Albus stood and greeted the old acquaintance warmly.

"And you Albus," the tired sounding man smiled, "Now, Teddy says that you believe Minerva to be pregnant?" One of his eyebrows stretched while the other wrinkled to a small arc.

Albus explained the events once again, become slightly more agitated as he tried to convey the serious tone of the centaur's pronouncement.

"We'll have a look Albus. Don't worry" Morton smiled as he pulled out his wand.

Millicent Bagnold was furious. She was rarely unprepared for a situation, always the hero of every crisis. But now, on Christmas Eve no less, she had received news of an attack at Hogwarts. Hogwarts!! The very safest and secure nook within all of England! If the castle was no longer safe, what was? Apparently the media was beginning to feel that way, too. All ready, she had gotten four floo calls from different news services attempting to catch an official statement. This was completely unnerving! And apparently, Voldemort's Death Eaters had been the instigators of said attack! Two Aurors had died, and four of the death eaters were killed. Minerva McGonagall, and Millicent was even more frustrated to note that this was Dumbledore's wife, was in the hospital with severe injuries! She knew the Headmaster was going to some strolling in here and humbly make her eat her hat. What would the _Daily Prophet _say? What would the public think? This Voldemort character, who until now, the Ministry had never impeded, was indeed dangerous, if not deadly. He was at large and apparently had a band of fanatical followers who would die to do his bidding. _This is just like Grindelwald, only worse, because you don't know who to trust,_ Millicent rubbed her temples trying to ease the tension that wrapped around her mind. _Looks like I'll be talking to the Wizengammot about repealing that Marriage Law, after all._

Albus searched Morton's inscrutable visage, "Well?" he pressured.

"The centaur was correct, Albus," he seemed slightly shocked. "Minerva is two months pregnant." He lisped, the words floating unbelievingly from his mouth.

"Is? As in, the child is still alive?" Albus stood up to lean closer, "What do you mean, Morton?"

"Hold on, Albus," The Healer pushed Albus back into his armchair, "The baby is alive, but it, too has been injured. It all depends on the next few days as to whether or not it will live."

Suddenly, all three men were startled by a shocked whisper from the bed between them.

"A baby?" Minerva was awake. Albus dove for her hand, and the Healers instantly began casting diagnostic spells.

"Minerva, dearest!" He gently placed her hand against his cheek. "Yes, a baby! Firenze told me about it when he returned you to me. Morton says the baby is injured, but everything will be all right, Tabby, don't worry." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. There were tears running down her cheeks.

"After all these years of waiting, and now, the child might not even get a chance to breathe!" she murmured half-weeping, half-whispering.

"Don't fret, darling, I promise, I'll be here, right by your side, the whole time." Albus firmly reassured her as he gathered her hands in his and held them, gently. "We'll get through this, Minerva."

A/N yep, I'm starting to fall asleep again, so that's all for now. Please Review! You people are so amazingly generous with your comments when you want to give them, so please tell me exactly what you think! Don't worry, the story isn't going to drag on too much longer!


	10. Waiting

Disclaimer: I'm nobody!

Who are you?

Are you nobody, too?

Good, then neither of us is JKR so we understand that this isn't mine.

(BTW "I'm Nobody" is an Emily Dickinson poem you should read, if you haven't read it, what the heck are you doing reading ff? Go, right now! That's right, now!)

As if belatedly recognizing the tragedy that had taken place in the world, the sky decided to make up for its discordantly bright demeanor of the previous day with a vicious storm the following morning. The sun skulked up the heavens swathed in the russet colored cotton of the clouds. No birds sang, no sunbeams left the confines of the sun's mantle, and the students who had remained at Hogwarts for the holidays glumly attempted to pass the time. Only Fawkes, outside the window of the room Molly and Arthur Weasley slept in, crooned consolingly to the bereft sister.

Molly had improved with a good solid twelve hours of rest. She realized the virtue in continuing to live, something she was forced to do after her parents' deaths as well. The bitter sting of their absence left red streaks on her cheeks and twisted her breath in her chest unexpectedly. But sweeping up her tiny, aberrantly cheerful son, Molly Weasley promised herself that whatever happened, she would never let any of her children die such a terrible death. She and her husband would avoid such organizations as "the Order", it was the only way to live in peace. Waking up to the phoenix's lullaby, Molly congealed her resolve and pulled her baby boy closer to her. _Whatever it takes, _She vowed determinedly _I will protect all of my children from a life of fear. _

Arthur stirred from the other side of the bed and mumbled in his sleep. Glancing in his direction, Molly began to process the idea that she could have lost her husband too last night. If they had come a little while earlier, that death eater, that Anton Dolohov, would still have been there. He could have killed Arthur! _He nearly did kill Minerva,_ Molly reminded herself. Her thoughts drifted sympathetically to Albus. The poor man had been at his wife's bedside all night. How terrible it must be to have to wait and wonder. Hoping, praying to the Higher Powers that your child would be spared. Poppy had told Molly about the child. But that had been last night, the doctor said it would be a few days before they knew anything for certain.

Bill squirmed between his parents. His thumb flew like a magnet to his mouth, and he began to lull himself back to sleep. _How many more innocent people must die?_ Molly sighed. But Fawkes' magic was more powerful than the deepest depression. Eyes swooping closed, Molly curled into the security of her tiny family, knowing they were now all she had in this world.

The wind outside the window of St Mungo's seemed to be howling with the souls of the dead, scraping, clawing at the window of the ward, begging entrance to kidnap another innocent prey. Minerva was still sleeping. After a brief conversation with Albus following her return to consciousness, Minerva had tearfully reiterated the tragedy. It had taken all her strength, though, for she slept fitfully, as people often do when they are trying to out run death. Albus gathered the narrative carefully into his memory, and soothed his wife into slumber. He had drifted off a few times during the night, but now, the sound of the macabre, snow-leaden wind prevented any repose. He wanted to talk to the Minister, but was worried about leaving Minerva alone. What if the baby… well, what if something happened while he was gone? But, Healer Bancroft had said it would take a few days for any solid prognosis to surface. Slipping Minerva's hand back onto the sheet, (and how ghostly blue the hand was) Albus stood up and stretched out. His body was not use to such tension. He decided to pay the Minister a visit.

Millicent had been waiting. Waiting for the press to flood her, waiting for another, more terrible attack from Voldemort, waiting for the wizarding world to start demanding answers and action, but most of all, waiting for Albus Dumbledore to stop by to gloat. Granted, Albus Dumbledore was not the gloating type, but his presence proved an irritant whenever Millicent had refused to take his advice and it had cost her (which was the majority of the time she refused his advice (she was beginning to notice a pattern)). But such things were not to be thought of now. Ego and political agendas must be swept aside to provide a united, powerful wizarding community with a plan of defense. _I should be writing this down for a press conference later, _Millicent absently, and somewhat conceitedly, mused.

Dumbledore chose that particular moment to stride, completely unannounced, into the office. As he marched up to the front of her desk, Millicent felt slightly intimidated. Feeling a desperate need to compensate for this rare sense of fear, the Minister rose from her seat. In truth, this did very little to diminish her boiling apprehension, but at least it gave her a sense of authority. Swallowing the last vestiges of her cowed feelings, she decided to take the offensive (if only briefly) and questioned the advancing Professor.

"Dumbledore, what are you…" She began.

"Don't try to feign innocence," Dumbledore stated quietly, in a terribly foreboding, collect way. He knew his argument well enough that he did not have to be emotional or irate to prove himself. "Surely, you remember our bargain?"

Millicent made what she desperate hoped would form a disarming smile and attempted to slide past this comment, "Well, you see Dumbledore…" 

"Let me remind you." Dumbledore again interrupted, only the thinnest film of annoyance flowing over the deceptively serene river of his words. "Shortly after your administration issued the Marriage Law, I dropped in to explain my view on the situation. I cited Voldemort's current power-craze as the reason witches and wizards were afraid of settling down. You scoffed at this, saying Voldemort was harmless, even beneficial, to the general wizarding community." The evenness of his timbre was like that of someone reading a recipe for chicken noodle soup. Millicent was very afraid. "However, you agreed that should Voldemort prove dangerous, you would concede my point and repeal the law."

Millicent nodded her head slowly, biting her lip. All her mental faculties were straining in concert to calculate a viable out to this situation.

"I come before you now," Now, Dumbledore's voice was solemn, even sad, "Laying evidence of Voldemort's malicious intent. His followers, after an attempt to sabotage Hogwarts grounds, ruthlessly killed two young aurors, as well as almost mortally wounding my Deputy Headmistress. I believe the circumstances are now sufficient to prove Voldemort's danger. I ask that you repeal the law, as your part of the bargain."

In that moment, Millicent knew what she had to do, and she wasn't going to like it, "Headmaster, I fully agree that it is high time I hold up my end of the bargain. Recent evidence has shown that the wizarding populace has responded very well to this new urge at patriotic relationships. The number of single wizards dropped significantly in the last two months. As a result, I have decided to repeal the law. After all, it would be foolish to think that everybody can find someone that's right for…"

"But you are not repealing the law because of the attack?" a dangerous cloud, carrying a blizzard (comparable to the one raging outside) of frustrated anger, had slid over Dumbledore's mien.

"I think that attack is too strong a word, Headmaster," Millicent felt like a coward. But she had no option. If she acknowledged Voldemort's power, then that would mean her administration had been incompetent in checking his rise. This would lead to tricky questions in the Ministry. She would also have to come up with a plan of attack, a way to counteract his terrible violence. This would mean loss of lives, something the current wizarding world could not afford at this time, "Really, we have little evidence of what actually occurred…" 

"Please don't lie to me, Millicent, it's such a waste of time" And still Dumbledore's voice was infuriatingly even and reserved, "I know what you truly think. You are scared. So scared, in fact, that you believe your only option is to hide. I am sorry Millicent, I thought I knew you better than that." The disappointment that flooded on those terrifyingly placid words nearly tore the Minister's heart in two. Over the years, as they had faced Grindelwald and many other challenges, Millicent had developed a deep respect for Albus Dumbledore. She had always valued his opinion and had tried to maintain his approval at all times. Now it seemed they must part ways.

"Don't you go talking about high morals and truth and light and justice!" Millicent's resolve to remain cool toppled, "You sit peacefully secluded in your castle, protected by Merlin knows how many spells, wards and enchantments, and you think you have the right to point fingers at my morals. May I remind you that I have the entire wizarding population to think about. My standards of right and wrong are insignificant when placed against the greater good!! If I deny this, it is not for lack of courage, but for the people, Albus, for the bloody people. And I refuse to see another mass slaughter like Grendelwald's reign. I will protect the people from that pain as long as I can. You can say what you like about my morals, but don't you dare have the audacity to come in here telling me that "the people need this" or "the people need that" I am the voice of the people! I will protect and decide for them!!"

There was a pause, during which the exhausted Minister returned to her chair, and Dumbledore rose and turned to leave, "I'm sorry to have disturbed you, Minister. I hope your new plan of defense works out well." And he was gone. Frustrated, Millicent slumped over her desk, wishing she could be anybody else in the world.

As soon as Albus returned to St Mungo's, he knew something was wrong, there were four healers circling Minerva's bed. All looked very somber, and were bending down to check on her. Albus rushed over. If something had happened while he was away, he would never forgive himself. 

He quickly picked out Morton Bancroft from the group and approached him.

"Morton, what's going on?" Dumbledore slipped in between two of the other healers to view his wife.

"They've come to kill my child!!" Minerva screamed abruptly, as the wind cresendoed out side the glass. Her face was pricked with tiny speckles of sweat. Her skin was the color of ashes, except for her cheeks, which seemed aflame. Her eyes shot wildly around the room. Minerva flopped and arched helplessly on the bed, struggling with unknown terrors. Her cry had stolen Albus' breath. He stood aghast at the shade his wife had become. Minerva was cadaverous. Normally a serenely thin woman, the professor had crossed the border into unhealthily gaunt. Minerva's fever-wracked frame seemed so pathetic and sorrowful that Albus had to concentrate for a moment on controlling his tears. Tears were the last thing his wife needed. Bancroft stepped to the side and spoke in a terribly cold, even tone that bordered on macabre.

"Two hours ago, shortly after you left," Albus inwardly flogged himself for ever leaving her side, "Minerva woke up shivering and sweating. One of the healers-in-training saw her and went over to give her a blanket. As soon as Minerva saw the healer, she started ranting just like she is now. We think it's a side effect of Dolohov's curses. You see, none of his victims had ever lived this long, so we've never noted the side effects. Apparently, this is one of them. I don't need to tell you this is dangerous. If she doesn't pull out of it in a few hours, she'll loose all hope of keeping the child. Not only that, if she continues to rant like this all night, Minerva might not even make it. I know you two are CLOSE," Bancroft issued a soft cough, "Poppy had stopped by to see how she was doing, and when she heard what had happened… well, you see, during her ranting, Minerva has called your name quite frequently, and Poppy thought it best to explain to me why that was. I actually implied something slightly less…legitimate… might be going on, and she became rather defensive to be honest. But as it stands, Minerva needs you. Hopefully, you can calm her down. We've tried every spell available to us, and the fever has wriggled around them all. I'm afraid that, for the time being, you're our best hope, Dumbledore." Bancroft's eyes looked solemn and soft. Even as a Healer, he still had a deep respect for Minerva McGonagall. Truth be known, he had had a crush on her in their fifth year at Hogwarts. Seeing two noble people suffer like this was sad for any human being, healer or no.

Throughout this outpouring of information, Albus had merely nodded as he attempted to glean as much as he could. His Minerva was in trouble that was all his mind had to comprehend. He numbly approached the bed, which was still of jumble of sheets, sweat and Minerva's struggling body. Seeing his wife again, he could stand no more. Albus Dumbledore became the most powerful wizard of the age once again. He sat on the edge of Minerva's bed and caught up one of her flailing arms. Simultaneously, Minerva's gaze locked on his. There was a terribly blank moment when Minerva simply stared, unrecognizing, back. Then she started sobbing again, only now, she collapsed into her husband's arms and relinquished the fight against her invisible assailants. Albus would protect her.

Meanwhile, Bancroft had dismissed the other healers. He stood to the side, smiling inaudibly, despite the near-fatal nature of the situation. Watching this couple had warmed his heart with a deeper faith in true love. From a distance, he cast a spell to determine if Minerva's fever was receding. It was, though not a quickly as he would have liked. The healer had done all in his power, now he decided to leave the rest to love's power. Morton slipped out of the ward.

Albus discreetly summoned Fawkes as he held his sobbing wife. There was a slight chance his tears could help lower Minerva's fever and save their child.

Fawkes snapped onto the bedside table. As soon as his gentle eyes had swooped over the scene, he bawled gently, his head rubbing Albus' shoulder. From the moment he had met Minerva, Fawkes had gotten along very well with the Deputy Headmistress. He had even helped Albus fulfill his plan to propose to Minerva. Sometimes Albus suspected Fawkes loved Minerva more. Now, the bird crooned sorrowfully at the pitiful figure before him. Hearing the consoling note, Albus turned, and the look in his eye was all the instruction the phoenix needed. He hopped onto the bed and nudged Minerva's mouth with his beak. Minerva had given in to exhaustion and was traversing a fitful, feverish sleep. Propping open Minerva's mouth, Albus nodded to the phoenix. Fawkes cried and his tears seemed more genuine than any human's could ever be. Five tears fell into Minerva's mouth. After that, Fawkes fluted a lullaby to his faithful master and mistress, and then slipped off in flame.

Albus was asleep next to Minerva when Bancroft walked into the room twenty minutes later. He routinely checked Minerva's vitals. He was shocked to find no fever at all. In fact, it as impossible to tell that a fever had ravaged her body at all. Holding his breath, he checked the baby's condition. As if by a miracle, the baby was completely healthy, with a strong heartbeat. The fetus showed no stress whatsoever. Morton had never been a great believer in miracles, and rarely ever indulged in sentimentality, being a healer. But seeing the effect the strong love between these two wizards was beginning to soften his outlook.

As he turned to leave the couple in peace, Albus woke. Seeing the Healer's back, Albus whispered after Minerva's health.

"I don't know what you did, Dumbledore, but Minerva is fine now." A smile slid on his face as he watched relief fill the Headmaster's eyes, "And I have some even better news. The baby is miraculously healthy. It's truly miraculous." He repeated the word because it tasted awkward to his tongue. He hardly ever used it anymore. Bancroft was enveloped in an ecstatic, overly enthusiastic hug from the father to be.

A/N Well, only planning two more chapters. Please review. I love your feedback, criticism is appreciated, heck, even flames, I love hearing your opinions, and you have been so generous with them before! Thank you all!! So sorry about the consistently long period between updates, but if I could explain to you the nature of my life…


	11. Return Home

Disclaimer: "Is all that we see or seem

But a dream within a dream?"

This is just my dream, It's Miss Rowling's reality, and Edgar Allan Poe's genius poetry.

After her miraculous recovery, the healers at St. Mungo's saw no reason to keep Minerva longer than a few more days. And Minerva enthusiastically agreed. However, her recovery from the fever did not mean that her body was completely healed. Her stomach still had trouble handling most solid foods and the gash on her shoulder still ached. According to Morton Bancroft, they were exceptionally lucky that Minerva was alive at all, let alone able to walk about a week after the attack, as she was obstinately attempting to do. At first, Minerva had become so dizzy that she was forced to retire to the bed for an entire day, but the next day, she was able to make full circuit around the ward before a concerned Madam Pomfrey forced her to sit down. It was now a full week since the attack, and Minerva was walking around the ward after only one dizzy spell. It was New Year's Eve Day, and Minerva was determined to be out to celebrate that evening. The Weasleys had dropped in to see her the day before, and had once again graciously extended their invitation to the Dumbledores to spend what remained of the holidays at the Burrow. Much to Healer Bancroft's dismay, Minerva had accepted without gaining his approval and was stubbornly persisting in her attempts to be released.

"Professor McGonagall! When you came in here a week ago, for all intents and purposes, you were dead!! Now, after an albeit miraculous recovery, you expect me to let you simply waltz your way out of here after only beginning to recover four days ago? Are you mad?" He ran his hands through his hair as if trying to sweep his mind of its frustration. Helpless against the professor's marble gaze, he turned to plead with the Headmaster, "Dumbledore, surely you see my point!! She nearly died on Monday, and now you expect me to release her? Just like that?"

Dumbledore didn't say anything, primarily because when one has inhabited a particular human body for as long the Headmaster had occupied this particular body, one learns precisely how to manipulate one's stance to convey an idea, and speech becomes redundant. At that very moment, Dumbledore's complete being spoke _I've been married to her for twelve years, and I still can't get her to rest unless she's unconscious._

"Well, I see this will get me absolutely no where!" Bancroft turned and threw up his hands as the frustration raced back into his features. "All right, I suppose you are free to go, Professor. Provided," He whirled around to glare with intense sincerity at his contemporary, "You promise to faithfully attend your checkups for the next month. After that I will be satisfied to return you to the exceptional care of Poppy Pomfrey. But in the interim, we have never recorded the after effects of the Dolohov curse, and must collect as much information as we can for future cases."

Up until his last sentence, Minerva had been cheerily bustling around her little bed, gathering her personal belongings, tying on her cloak and hat and finally stopping at Albus' side. On hearing the healer's last words, Minerva's smile disappeared and her hand flew to her womb, which was nearly robbed of its treasure by the sadistic death eater. To prevent a cry from escaping her mouth, Minerva clamped down almost viciously on her bottom lip. Sensing her distress, and indeed feeling a sobering anguish himself, Albus stepped forward. As he did so, he ensconced Minerva's free hand into his own, hoping to provide restrained comfort to his wife.

"Let us hope there are no future cases, Morton."

The Burrow was a completely different place now. The kitchen seemed still homey, but somehow less cheerfully cluttered and more depressed and miserable. These feelings were reflected in the face of the kitchen's proprietor, for Molly Weasley was heavily grieving the loss of her brothers. The majority of the Prewett household had been obliterated during the fierce tyranny of Grindelwald. To lose her brothers to another, seemingly more terrible dark wizard was almost more than Molly could stand. In this, Minerva attempted to comfort her. The Prewetts were not the only family devastated by Grindelwald. The once expansive McGonagall clan had been reduced to a handful of Minerva's distant relations during that terrible scourge. Both women drew strength from each other in their bereft state.

Arthur, contrastingly, was now convinced of the necessity of joining the fledgling Order of the Phoenix. He was convinced that action was the only course open to him. His wife was even more adamant in her opposition to his valorous intents. They had fought incessantly for the past three days, and after a near emotional break down on Molly's part, Arthur had surrendered his stance. After all, they had plans to raise a large family. That would hardly be possible if they were always occupied with Order business. So instead of offering to join the Order, Arthur merely discussed with Albus the best means of setting up protection wards around his new domain. It frustrated him to be forced into such a defensive state, and he longed to be part of the solution. But for now, his life was occupied with domestic problems.

Together, the couples apprehensively celebrated the dawn of another year, each secretly, acutely fearing that they would not all be present at its close. Still, in ancient, time-honored precedent, both couples (to Arthur Weasley's discomfort) lidded their fear long enough enjoy a good snogging session as the year drew its first, ragged breaths.

That night, while the household slept, Minerva's sleep was tortured with twisted, unnerving nightmares.

At first, Minerva's dream was seemingly pleasant. She was lounging on the front lawn of the no longer decrepit McGonagall Manor. Albus was laughing and playing with their children, and there were so many of them!! At least five, by Minerva's count. She smiled at a particularly confusing game Albus was trying to invent. A chorus of young laughter, like a burst of sparrows' song, leapt from the pile of children, all futilely attempting to steal their father's socks. It was sunny and warm and safe, Minerva felt this instinctively.

The sunshine, laughter, and warmth were curtailed in one breath. Isolated in just that second, Minerva frantically roved over the scene. It had all changed. The mansion stood even more derelict then she had last seen it. The emptiness of the house seemed to scream a terrible, comfort-tearing note. Hunting desperately in hopes of finding her children, Minerva scampered out from the leer of the front of the house, to one of its blank sides. As she rounded the corner with a possessed speed, Minerva nearly tripped on a stone. Minerva sat down hard on the dry, unforgiving dirt and came face to face with another shock.

Somehow, Minerva knew that if the house was falling apart, she would not be able to find the children. But this was the last thing she expected.

Staring her boldly, effacingly in the eyes was a tombstone. The inscription screeched, "Athena Deidre McGonagall, born June 14th, 1973, died July 10th, 1980".

Minerva was rocked with an unquenchable desire to retch, and she quickly scooted along the ground away from the grim memorial. Her eyes were hypnotically locked on the words, "died July 10th, 1980". Her back encountered something hard. She flipped over ready to fight whatever or whoever it was. The sight completely obliterated her defenses. Five horribly real, solid stones audaciously loomed in front of her. All bore the horrible epitaph, "died July 10th 1980". And looking below the words, she noticed something her over wrought heart had avoided before. All the tombstones bore the Dark Mark, like a terrible after thought, added to mar the innocence of these terrible monuments.

Panicking, the childless mother stood. Shakily and with no conviction, she began a feeble attempt at regaining a sense of orientation. Her children were all dead. Minerva could only guess as to Albus' fate. She was alone in the world. She had nowhere to live, no one to love… There was a sinister wind on her cheek, and the edge of her vision marked the apparition of a tall, hooded figure. Not sure of a course of action, Minerva retreated behind the pathetic army of tombstones, detachedly deeming them the best immediate cover in case of attack. Another zephyr struck her ear, this time the messenger of a sickly, inhuman voice.

"Aaaahhhhhh," It floated from the hood in frigid satisfaction, "Minerva McGonagall, finally come to your end? Do you see what has become of all you loved, Minerva? You lead an empty, pathetic life. All for your hypocritical morals. Are you happy, Minerva? Are you glad that each and every one of your children died before they reached the age of ten, to satisfy the appetite of your all-consuming virtues? Even now, your husband lies on the point of death, wounded for his ideals. And now, you will live, live in terrible agony, with your morals as your sole companions."

Before she could react, a horrific, almost-skeletal, not nearly human, hand withdrew a wand and shot a curse at Minerva. There was a moment of undefined suffering as the curse connected, but soon, the pain settled heavily in her shoulder. Thrashing against the pain, Minerva suddenly felt two hands shaking her, pulling her out of the gloom and loneliness. Two strong, loving hands pulled her into a warming, shielding embrace. It was Albus, everything was going to be all right now.

For a long breath, Albus simply held Minerva, his fingers slowly tracing intertwining patterns on Minerva's back.

Finally he spoke, "Minerva, are you all right?"

"I'm fine." A short, irritable reply.

"Minerva, tell me the truth."

"I had a nightmare, Albus. It was of no consequence." She answered stiffly. She was too frightened of what she had marked to give it voice in the waking world.

Her husband sighed and pulled her in closer, "Oh, Tabby, what has frightened you so badly that you won't even tell me?"

Here, in his arms, with the lovely smell of the hot cocoa that he frequently spilled on his robes, and the lemon drops he constantly consumed, Minerva nearly forgot the pain of the intense loneliness the dream had invoked.

"Was it about the baby?" Only then did Minerva realize her hand had been protectively covering her belly. Relaxing into his embrace, Minerva let the pressing tears slide down her cheeks as she told him the whole story.

"Does your shoulder still hurt?" Albus scrutinized her face, caringly.

"Only a little," Minerva impatiently replied, _He's entirely missing the point! _"But, dear, what about the children? What if…" 

"Aaahhh, Tabby, we've been over this. If we lived in what if's we'd never live at all," Albus gently kissed her on the cheek, then leaned down to the pillows again, "We'll do our best to protect our children, Minerva, that's all any parent can ever do. It's like that French Muggle Playwright, Voltaire I think his name was, said, 'until then, we till the soil.' Until the world is free from evil, we must simply do the best we can." His arm pulling her back to bed effectively ended the conversation.

After the holidays, life flowed fairly smoothly. The Ministry was careful to keep the story of the attack out of public eye and ear reach, so parents felt no compunction at sending their children to a school so recently perpetrated.

The attack had changed one thing. It confirmed Albus' concerns for Minerva's safety. They both decided that the recent chain of events commanded a strong resolve of secrecy. Not only would their marriage remain hidden, it was imperative that their child be kept a secret as well. This proved a little complex at first. Minerva, now fully two months pregnant, was experiencing signs of morning sickness. While it failed to interrupt her teaching schedule her inability to eat breakfast had given the other staff members pause, and Minerva was receiving a disconcerting number of inquiries as to her health. Healer Bancroft had swiftly provided a remedy for the situation at her next appointment, and made her promise to rest more often.

Their biggest obstacle in maintaining secrecy proved to be Albus. Normally, Minerva would cringe at his often dangerously obvious public displays of affection or shake her head, patronizingly. But now that Minerva carried his child, Albus Dumbledore found her simply irresistible. Once or twice, at meals, he had tried to reach over and place his hand on her stomach. He was swiftly rubbutted, however, by a sharp, meaningful pinch. And there were several second glances when the Headmaster started carrying books for the Deputy Headmistress. Members of the staff caught Dumbledore staring at the Deputy Headmistress during meetings, a puzzlingly euphoric smile lounging dreamily in his features. On one occasion, a first-year excavating some ancient herbology text came upon the Headmaster reading a book entitled, "Baby Names: Names that will Provide Your Child with the Best Advantage in Life" and scribbling on a rather long list.

These little episodes proved to be the main topic of conversation for Minerva and Poppy's weekly tea time for the next several weeks.

"Poppy, what am I going to do with him?" Minerva stood up with considerable effort, carrying a child for over four months had proved rather tiring, "I love the man more than anything in the world…" 

"That's obvious," Poppy coughed from her seat, casually slipping behind her tea mug as she flashed a look at Minerva's slightly larger stomach. Now that the concealing charms were off, Poppy could see exactly how round her best friend's stomach had become. It had a strange effect, because Minerva was characteristically skinny. The slender figure was so picturesquely interrupted by this precocious little curve. Yet, Poppy knew how excited Minerva was, in her own quiet way, to have this "little curve" in her life.

"Poppy!" Minerva exclaimed, setting her tea cup down rather fiercely, causing tea to skip over the rim. "You're not helping!! This man is driving me mad!! One minute Albus is reminding me how important it is that this child remain a secret. Next thing I know, I he's running into the staff lounge asking if I think "Wilfred" would make a good third middle name! What am I going to do about him, Poppy?" Her energy spent, Minerva subsided into one of her stuffy, stiff chairs.

"Don't worry so much, Minerva!" Poppy smiled. Pushing her tea out of the way, she leaned across the stand to look Minerva in the eyes, "Now, answer me this. How old is Albus?"

"Over a hundred and twenty," Minerva dashed off, suspiciously second-guessing her friend.

"And has he ever been married before? Ever had a family? Ever had children he could call his own?"

"Well… No, but I know where you're going with this and…" Minerva's countenance soured resentfully.

"Then, I think" Poppy knocked the table as if laying down a physical proof, "that a 120 year-old man has the right to celebrate the arrival of his first child!" When Minerva simply sighed in frustration and began to gather the tea things, Poppy continued, "It took him this long to find the perfect woman. At the rate things were going between you two before this law…. Let's just say that I would have grandchildren before the two of you would have dared to have children. And don't try to deny it, Minerva, you know it's the truth! For the most powerful witch and wizard of the age, you two seem to be more afraid of the ordinary things than ordinary people!"

"Now, Poppy, that's hardly fair!" Minerva took a defensive stance with tea tray in hand, "After all, you were there during Grindelwald's reign! You know the kind of terrors he inflicted on people! How can you say that…"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Poppy scurried over, waving her hands as if fanning away flames. "You know I didn't mean it that way!" She took the tray from Minerva, "Now all I meant was, let Albus enjoy himself. Take a few risks, Min. You only have a firstborn once! Enjoy the experience! And get some rest! If you don't slow down, nothing Morton Bancroft can give you will keep you healthy!" With that, the mediwitch slid through the door.

Minerva strode forth from her office with every intention of getting a solid night's sleep. _I haven't exactly been sleeping soundly_ she reminisced, _these last few weeks the baby seems to have become a night owl. _ As an after thought, Minerva reached around to rub the rather strained mid-section of her back. She had been unable to find a comfortable position for repose, of late, and her back was beginning to complain.

Turning around a corner, an alarming sight met her eyes. Alex Fortinbras was there, in the corridor, pointing his wand at a miserable, greasy heap of robes cowering against the wall, "If I ever catch you consorting with such …" Both parties became aware of the Deputy's presence. Instantly the gangly mass of black robes became recognizable as Severus Snape, a third year Slytherin, who was shunned by the student populace. Minerva had always felt rather sorry for him. But now, interrupting this scene, she had seen the look of pervading guilt on both the Professor and the student's faces.

"Is something going on here, Professor?" Minerva delved into their expressions, trying to catch a hint of their previous conversation.

"Nothing that has not been dealt with, Professor McGonagall," Fortinbras mercurially jumped from guilt to a gilded countenance.

"Well, then, Snape, you may go." Minerva nodded to the dour student, "Professor, if I could see you in my office…" Minerva treaded her freshly laid steps, and was soon seated behind her desk.

"What is the meaning of this, Alexander?" remembering the Healer's admonitions to keep her temper in check, Minerva tried to remain collect. "You were directly threatening a student! That is unacceptable behavior from a professor! Severus Snape has enough trouble with student bullies, let alone professors who…"

"Minerva, wait!" Fortinbras' face became a thundercloud, "It's not what you think! That boy is up to no good!! I saw him messing around with several very dangerous Dark Arts curses in one of the spare classrooms! He was practicing some very dark curses, Minerva! That boy is no longer courting evil! He's practically bedding it! I've been watching him all year and …" 

"Do you expect me to believe this solely on your word, Professor?" Minerva stood now, at this new threat to a student, "Simply because you don't like the look of a student, doesn't mean you start throwing accusations at him…"

"It's not just his look! Merlin, Minerva!" The Dark Arts Professor rose, too, and slammed a fist against the desk in frustration, "I know these things!!"

"How?!" Minerva challenged, getting ready for a verbal and possibly physical duel. "The Headmaster and I know practically nothing about you. Dumbledore himself told me he knew nothing of your back round, simply that you were strong in the Dark Arts! Personally, I find this a very shady concept, considering we have no idea how you acquired these skills!"

"How? HOW?!" his voice and his color rose to a louder, more fiery color with every word, "I'll tell you how! And sit down! You make me nervous." Minerva glared defiantly back, "SIT DOWN!" he unleashed a rare, explosive burst, and Minerva quickly complied. "You want to know why I have such a rapport with the Dark Arts? It started with Grindelwald, I was a young, dashing, talented wizard, living in Norway at the time. I had the most beautiful woman in the world. We were to be married in December of 1942, it seems so long ago now that I say it, thirty years! But nothing could have ruined out joy. We both stayed away from the fighting, and I had a steady job. I was a relations expert for the Norwegian Ministry. My fiancée, my Elise, she was traveling back from a visit to her mother, in Germany, you understand, by train. She had always insisted on such strange, Muggle methods of travel." The professor had taken to pacing around the room during his lecture, looking pointedly at his captive audience to emphasize a word, "But this time, her train was blown up by some stupid, thoughtless Muggle "resistance" worker. She was killed because they were trying to fight "Hitler". The fools, they thought that blowing up a few trains would overcome the magic of a wizard like Grindelwald. I was outraged, revenge became my bread and water. I joined Grindelwald. I did terrible things for him. I didn't even pay attention to wether it was right or wrong, I simply wanted to get back at whoever killed my Elise. But then, one day, I was told to bomb a factory that was a known resistance hideout. I stood outside the door of the factory waiting for the workers to go back to their shift, when I started to actually look at them. They were about the same age as Elise and I, and they would soon be obliterated, cast off, just as casually as my Elise had been killed. Grindelwald didn't care about that. In fact, he had wanted as many factory workers as possible to die, fewer Muggles to exterminate later. That's when I realized how wrong this was. So I ran away." Minerva was completely nonplussed. Her eyes simply gaped in shock unable to understand the horror of what he had told her. Fortinbras continued, "But I was too important for Grindelwald to simply let go. I knew too much to live. He sent many of his dark followers after me." He stopped and looked out the window, as if trying to behold anything but the myriad of faces he had slaughtered, "One of them was only a boy, about Severus' age. He was incredibly talented and dangerous. And when I had killed him, I wondered where his mother was right then. Did she know her son was lying dead in some street miles from her arms?" He pulled up a shaky breath, "That's why I threatened him, Minerva. That's why I teach defense against the dark arts. So we can be prepared for the next Dark Wizard who comes after our souls. That's why I yelled at him, so he never ends up lying dead in some street miles away from his home."

Slowly, Minerva's voice caught up with her, "Is that why you said you didn't like dealing with women? Do we all remind you of what you've done? Do we all remind you of her?" She asked, softly, caringly.

"You most of all," He smiled, getting ready to leave, "You see, she had hair and eyes just like yours, and when you laugh, it sounds very near hers."

"I see." Minerva stared awkwardly at a sheaf of papers on her desk.

"But, I will stop haunting you with the past, as it seems you have much more importantly plans for the future." He sent a last, indicative glance at her aberrantly un-concealed stomach and opened the door.

Cursing her clumsiness, Minerva cast a concealing charm and stood up. "Pro-Alex! Wait! I'm terribly sorry about… I mean, I never knew!"

"Funny, I seem to have said the same thing to you a few months ago." His sharp grin slid ironically around his face. "But, as you so aptly replied, you could not have known."

"About… About the b-baby," Minerva found herself foolishly tripping over the word when said out loud, "Please, don't tell anyone, we're trying to keep it a secret." 

"You think you'll be safe because you hide, Minerva?" he sighed coldly, truly leaving this time, "It never works. I've spent my whole life trying to hide from something, and it always finds me."

A/N So, when I said two, I really meant three, and I realize this chapter is kind of disjointed and boring, but it had to be here. So the next two will be better. Reviews are Lovely!! Thank you for reading through eleven verbose chapters!


	12. Side Effects

Disclaimer: Tell me not, in mournful numbers,

HP is but an empty dream!-

For Albus is not dead, but slumbers,

And I am not what I seem. – Truly, I own nothing, not Longfellow's Psalm of Life, or JKR's genius progeny.

A/N We'll see how it goes folks! Reviews are always appreciated!!

It was all ready the end of April. Exams were beginning to loom on the horizon for the unfortunate students under Minerva's hormonal tutelage. Fortunately, the worst of the mood swings had been eased by an exceptionally successful, and in certain staff and student's case, life-saving potion Poppy had discovered in an old text-book on her shelf. Unfortunately, upon discovering the potion, Poppy had failed to read completely through the directions. At the time, Poppy had been on a rather tight deadline. Minerva had pounded into the infirmary shrieking that if she had another hot flash, she would cast a freezing spell on the whole castle. So poor Madame Pomfrey did the wisest thing for the moment, save the entire castle by providing an instant solution.

The unfortunate consequence came into effect on a Friday, about a month after Minerva began taking the potion regularly.

Albus was desperate to see Minerva. He hadn't seen her since breakfast, having been away from lunch, due to a desperate cry for help from the Ministry.

Millicent Bagnold had once again restored order and a temporary peace to her administration, while managing to ignore the growing threat of Voldemort. Because of her current success, she had considered herself back on good terms with Albus Dumbledore and liberally demanded of his time. It was important the press see a strong connection between the Wizarding School and the government; it gave the current Minister a better reflection in the eyes of the average witch or wizard.

But all that aside, Albus missed his wife terribly. And since she only had a class of sixth years left before the weekend, he decided to call on her during her half hour break. Flinging wide the door (quietly closing it after catching a raised eyebrow from the professor), Albus swept into the Transfigurations class room and surrounded his wife with his affection. He distinctly felt her tense as his arm clasped Minerva's shoulder. Switching tactics, he began to pull at the pins which held in the repetitive bun on his wife's neck. Minerva had, until that point, been successfully ignoring her husband's advances. She was not in a touchable mood today, her back felt as if the load on her front weighed at least several hundred kilograms. In addition, this inestimable bulge prevented her from scoring a comfortable sleeping position. But Albus trying to tease and peck at her body was like putting an elephant on a rickety rope-bridge. McGonagall's nerves whipped apart faster than a curse flew from a wand.

"Albus Dumbledore!! I do not wish to be…" the rant initiated with Minerva knocking over her chair. Thankfully, the scathing tirade that flowed from her mind to her tongue was stayed as Dumbledore quickly sealed up her lips with his. Pulling her close enough to feel the delicate curve of her belly against him, Albus began to slowly rub his hands up and down her back. This was too much for Minerva. She caved physically and hormonally, and decided to vanish their clothes. Oddly, the professor's wand was on the other side of her desk. Minerva had never been very handy with wandless magic. Obviously, more potent forces were at work to aid her in her plight. As their mouths became more and more inseparable, Minerva found herself getting very warm. _But I'm not wearing any robes! How…? Oh, bugger it all!!_ In that moment, Minerva realized something must have gone wrong with the potion, because this was definitely a hot flash. As a matter of fact, this was promising to be a regular heat wave. Desperate to pull away and at least attempt to regain control, the transfigurations professor shoved off of her husband and leaned against the wall.

Albus was completely discombobulated by Minerva's latest actions. Concern prevailed, as he returned his clothing to its proper location, and approached his wife.

"Tabby, darling, is everything all right?" Albus reached out to steady her. Even with the wall for support, Minerva was wavering slightly. Instantly, Minerva recoiled from the extended hand. Now, Albus was truly worried, "What's going on Minerva? Are you in pain?"

Minerva could not answer, for at that moment, the world seemed to be rather fuzzy, as if her ears and eyes were wrapped in a cloak. She only knew that her blood felt like it was literally boiling and there was a terrible, all-encompassing pounding in her brain. All of a sudden, her face, her entire body, connected with something cold and hard. The cold felt good, but her head hurt more. These were her last thoughts before blackness closed over her.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore was not given to obscenities. If he had been, he would have catapulted every one of them off his tongue in that moment. He was standing in his wife's classroom, which, in about five minutes, would be full of sixth year students. He looked rumpled enough, from the past few minutes, to raise uncomfortable suspicion. His wife lay at his feet, naked, sweating, and murmuring more nonsense than Peeves put out in a year. He had to tend to his wife, but how to get her to her quarters? They were practically on the other side of the castle. It would take at least the five minutes to get Minerva there, let alone worry about her students. In a few seconds, the highly experienced Headmaster processed these thoughts and arrived at a solution.

He hurriedly returned Minerva's clothes to her person and used her fireplace to summon Poppy. In a trice, the mediwitch zipped through the fireplace and levitated Minerva towards her chambers. It had taken some convincing, but Albus persuaded Poppy that the last thing they needed was to have a feverish Minerva in plain sight. So Poppy acquiesced to letting the professor stay in her own rooms. Albus then settled down to teaching the sixth year class.

After the class, Albus decided to pay Minerva a visit. He tentatively stepped up to her door. Inside he heard a great deal of groaning, as if someone was in pain. Worried about Minerva, he made the door ring with his frustration. There was some scuffling, and soon a disheveled looking Madam Pomfrey answered the door.

"Albus!" She whispered frantically, pulling him in by the front of his robes, but shoving him to the side, out of sight of the bedroom door. "Look, I need to talk to you, but…" 

"Is that my husband, Poppy? Is that the lout that did this too me?!" Minerva was shrieking from the bedroom. Suddenly, her verbal assault was interrupted by the sound of running feet, followed by the noises that accompany being sick to one's stomach. As soon as these ended, there was more groaning.

"Albus, the potion backfired." Poppy's eyes were the size of galleons. Albus was terrified. If Poppy didn't know how to handle this, who would? "Apparently, it doesn't decrease hormone production, it just sort of bottles it up."

"I take it the "bottle" has blown it's top." Albus flinched as Minerva's discomfort increased in volume.

"Well, it actually comes in monthly cycles, which makes sense if I had actually read the entirety of the directions on that potion… But now, all we can do is try to keep her comfortable. Her hormone levels are unprecedented, but she should be all right. This potion was designed to help, not kill. Though there may be a few deaths if anybody gets in Minerva's way right now. I took away her wand, but she seems to be capable of wandless magic."

"Albus? Is that you? You lemon-sucking, over-sexed…"Minerva was furious, the sounds of breaking glass, accompanied by very material thuds, echoed from the bedroom.

"Now, Minerva, try to keep your temper down. Remember, you don't want to hurt the baby…" Poppy suddenly tied on a terrified smile and turned toward the bedroom. She had to prevent Minerva from physically harming herself.

"Hurt the Baby??? Have you seen what this little bugger has done to me? I must have gained thirty pounds in the past six months!! And what about my back! And I can't keep anything down!! Who's hurting who? And to think!" Minerva gave a sniff that trickled out of the bedroom, and sounded deceptively heartbroken. "I used to have a very lithe, becoming figure! Now look at me!!" Her sobs had moved aside for plaintive wailing, "I'm fat, ugly and I HAVE STRETCH MARKS!!!" This last part was nearly a scream.

Poppy turned around to cast a sympathetic, pleading look at the Headmaster. Summoning up all his courage, Dumbledore, the man who had killed Grindelwald and fought countless dark wizards, faced his most dangerous enemy yet, his wife. After all, as Minerva had so dashingly noted, it was his fault she was like this.

He quietly worked his way over to the hysterical woman. Taking her in his arms, he cooed, "Tabby, darling, I think you're beautiful." He wiped away a tear that slipped off her down cast face. Before he could react, what felt like an _expelliarmus_ connected with his chest and pushed him to the floor some ten feet away.

"How dare you say something like that to me!!" Minerva seemed to grow taller, and Albus could have sworn that a wind was beginning to whip around the room. "That's exactly the kind of talk that put me in this position!!" She stepped closer, summoning a very heavy vase by merely stretching out her hand. "So help me, should you open your mouth again, I'll throw this at you, Albus Dumbledore! Now get out!! I'm miserable enough without your obscene comments!!"

Albus had tried, he truly had. But when Minerva was this angry, and this powerful, there was nothing he could do. Out of desperation, he darted out the door.

"How long?" He panted, after he escaped from the line of fire.

"Well, according to the potion directions, this is a monthly cycle, and her bad spell will only last about six hours." Poppy sighed, mopping her forehead with a handkerchief, "I will stay with her. After all, if I had read the directions more carefully, we could have prepared for this. Now, go away."

"Are you sure she'll be all right?" Albus grimaced as he heard sobbing coming from Minerva's bedroom once again.

"Don't worry!" Poppy promised, pushing him toward the door, "Now, come back in about five hours, and everything will be fine!" Another crash trumpeted from the bedroom.

"You'd think she'd have shattered every breakable object in that room by now!" Albus quipped as he stepped through the door.

"She has. But then she just uses her newly acquired wandless magic to put everything back together again," Poppy sighed as she shut the door. This was going to be the longest four hours of her life.

As Albus approached Minerva's room at eight o'clock that night, an eerie sense of stillness hung in the air like an invisible fog that one wanted to brush aside. Knocking on the door, Albus hoped that there was still someone in the room capable of answering it.

The door jumped open and Poppy Pomfrey slipped outside.

"She's finally settled down, Albus," Poppy and Albus sighed in unison, "She should sleep until late tomorrow morning. And when she wakes up, she will probably be very weak." 

"Thank you, Poppy, you've been a great help," Albus patted her shoulder, and smiled in relief. They had survived.

"But I'm the reason this started! If I had paid attention, I never would have given her the potion!" Poppy wailed, guilt infested.

"Well, personally, and I'll have to talk to Minerva before we make any final decisions, but I think it would be better to get it all over with at once." Albus continued, not wishing to dwell on the thought of a hormonal Minerva everyday for the next two months. "And now that we know this is coming, maybe we can better prepare Minerva for its effects."

"Yes, well, I'm going to go get some sleep. I think coping with Minerva's emotional tennis games has taken my last ounce of sanity and energy for the day." Poppy yawned and strolled down the corridor.

The next morning, Minerva was too weak to leave her bed. Albus came and kept her company. Minerva read poetry, while Albus attempted to charm a deck of Muggle playing cards into the shape of Hogwarts. They spent most of the morning relaxing and simply spending time together, which they had been unable to do for quite some time.

Just before lunch, they received a fire-call. It was Molly Weasley. She seemed frantic, and excited and upset all at once.

"Minerva!" Molly called, Albus had helped Minerva sit on a couch before the fire place. "Minerva, you won't believe it!! It's such good news!! Arthur was so excited!"

"What, Molly, dear? You're completely incoherent!" Minerva smiled patiently and leaned closer.

"I'm going to have a baby!! I'm pregnant!! The baby's due in December!!" Molly's smile was brighter than the flames it had replaced. "Isn't it wonderful!!"

"Congratulations!!" Minerva beamed, and Albus reverberated the sentiment.

"How are you doing Minerva? How's your little one coming along?" Molly asked, completely innocent.

"Oh, just fine! Though he's getting rather big now and refuses to stick to a regular sleeping schedule." Minerva's smile soured somewhat.

"Well, I have to go! We still have to tell the rest of Arthur's relatives. And then we have to find a way to tell my Squib cousin! How do Muggles ever communicate with each other!?" And she was gone just as quickly and helter-skelterly as she had come.

"Oh, my!" Minerva grinned as she relaxed against the couch. "I wish I had that much energy right now!!"

"I think you spent more than your weekly quota of energy yesterday!" Albus teased.

Minerva suddenly turned on him, "Ah, about that, darling… Well you see, Poppy told me that I wasn't exactly complimentary…" Her wording placed a concerned look on Albus's face, "I don't remember much after you kissed me yesterday. Don't worry though! Poppy explained that it's perfectly normal after the type of sensory overload I suffered yesterday. She likened it to being intoxicated."

"A little worse, I'd say," Albus muttered on the side.

"Yes, well, I wanted to apologize for that…"Minerva made her best puppy dog eyes (for a cat animagus, which really turned out to be more comical than anything) and kissed him chastely on the cheek. "And to tell you that I love you, no matter what I say when I'm drunk!"

"I love you too, Tabby," Albus took more from the previous kiss and drew Minerva into his arms. The two of them relaxed on the couch the rest of the after noon.

A/N The grand denouement is next folks, so let me know what you think! You know how much I love hearing from you!! Thank you for reading!!


	13. Highest Priority

Disclaimer: NOT MINE.

A/N I know, no weird allusion to some great poet. But just for all of you who don't know, April 23, 2007 was the Great Bard, William Shakespeare's Birthday!! Happy B-day, Will! Any who, this is the last chapter with the possibility of a short epilogue. Never know how these things will end up.

Again, Albus was worried. Life had been too quiet. Tom Riddle was planning something, it was irrefutable this time. The dark wizard had drawn in followers over the past six weeks. Albus had noted the incriminating activities of influential wizards representing nearly every aspect of their lives, powerful people with money and a political voice. There was a catastrophe in the oven. Albus smelled it and grew worried.

To compensate his unease, he had prepared every possible protection, shield and charm to prevent an attack on Hogwarts or any harm descending on Minerva. No matter what descended, his students, staff, and beloved must remain intact.

In the week before the final exams, Minerva's nerves had finally been pushed from tolerant, to exacerbated.

"Albus, you are entirely too protective! If you put one more protection on this school, it will collapse from nervousness! As for your actions towards me, another shield, and I'm afraid I'll have a reaction! You must stop all this doomsday…" Minerva started.

"Please, don't start, Minerva!" Albus was truly worried now, he stood up from behind his desk and rolled into his routine pacing pattern around his office. Minerva sat in what had lately become her favorite chair. The extravagant bulge over her stomach created discomfort now quite regularly. "I've had this feeling before, and remember what happened last time!" His eyes connected with hers to momentarily convey the pain they held.

"That's just the problem, dear! You're scaring me! If you're afraid of Voldemort, how will we be protected? What's stopping him now?..." Her voice faded, leaving her worries to cloud the air. The couple existed in silence, each tasting the other's fears. Only, neither one was stronger for it.

"We must protect this school, Minerva. All other concerns are secondary." His brows were entrenched deep into his pondering face, "Apart from that, I cannot let any harm come to you or our child. It would break my heart to loose you." His last words were a whispered confession, the mere vocalization of the thought scaring him.

For a moment, Minerva simply contemplated him, her heart overflowing with admiration and love for the man before her. Suddenly, she noted the odd clock on the wall. One of the planets had just swiveled around a quarter of a turn. "Albus, the Order meeting!" the Professor in her detested tardiness. And being late to a secret meeting to save the country from destruction was simply inexcusable.

Every member of the order had piled into the crowded backroom of the Hog's Head bar. It proved a rather snug, but secure location. As the meeting stumbled into progress, Albus shared his concerns with other members of the Order. Several other members confirmed his findings with observations of key public officials. Each member noted strange behavior about a month ago.

"I believe that Voldemort will strike soon. He is a gifted student, but not a very good strategist. I believe he will attempt another attack on Hogwarts, to compensate for his first unsuccessful sortie." A generally grim wave reverberated through the faces of every witch and wizard present. Each knew that the school must be defended at all costs. The future of their world rested within that castle. "I have placed nearly every possible protection on the school. But Tom knows that. He is very gifted in destroying shields and protections. I might as well surround the school with parchment at this point. One thing we can count on. Riddle hates me. He will do all he can to destroy me. This leads me to believe that he is planning a full scale attack. I even believe that he himself may lead the assault. Because of this, we need to be prepared. Each of you must be ready to defend the school at a moment's notice. I have informed the staff, all of whom are very talented witches and wizards, and they are all willing to fight should the need arise." 

"We are all behind you, Dumbledoor." Edgar Bones boomed in his sweeping bass, "But will it be enough? How strong is Voldemort now?"

"I have reason to believe that, if it came down to a battle, we would have an advantage, not necessarily in numbers, but skill. Not only that, we will be defending our own ground. Not every spell I placed on the castle is inert. We will not be without our defenses." Albus smiled in a tight, prepared way.

"What about the students?" Dorcas Meadows' motherly voice transcended the crowd, "How can we be sure he won't attack while they are still there?"

"The staff and I have prepared a safe place for the students. They will come to no harm as long as a single Order member stands, I assure you." Albus gently patted her on the shoulder.

The meeting had gone on to calculate the most likely time for Voldemort's attack. Each member gave their unique insight into the problem, and then slowly dispersed into groups of quietly conversing members which slowly disintegrated into the night air. Albus and Minerva were one of the first of those groups. Lately, Albus had been making Minerva get more rest, and it was well past any decent hour. He gently guided her through the gates of Hogwarts and together they trudged through the many passages and hallways, pausing at the top of a particularly long flight of stairs to let Minerva catch her breath. Their conversation was aberrantly flirtatious after such a serious meeting. One would not connect the wizard who spoke of the possible end of his world with this man who was now shamelessly flirting with his wife.

"Your speech tonight was truly inspiring," Minerva purred, as Albus assisted her in mounting a flight of stairs. "I have always admired your gift of eloquence."

"Ah, Tabby, you have no need of eloquence," Albus grinned as they reached the top of the stairs, "You are a master of the gesture. You merely move and people know what your intent is. Not only that, you manage to convey a pretty good idea of your plans for them as well." He smiled as a slight cherry shade spilled over her cheeks.

"Are you implying something, Headmaster?" She asked playfully, measuring a wider gap between them, coyly.

"Well, it all depends on whether or not the lady next to me is game." Albus slipped closer to her, and whispered in her ear, "You know, when you're pregnant, you're practically irresistible!"

"Albus!" Minerva smiled with mock anger, and darted into their chambers.

Exams went surprisingly well. To Albus' relief, they were also without interruption. Friday's sun was beginning to doff its hat to a sliver of the moon. Minerva sat at the window, gazing down at the grounds. Albus had forbid her taking sentry duty outside the school. Instead, he assigned order members to patrol the grounds once per night, to make sure all the safe guards were in order. Minerva was frustrated by this, but a long discussion had ended in his favor. So now, she was regarding the stately green velvet of the floor below, wishing that there was a quiet place away from all this violence and turmoil. She and Albus had had quite the row on Tuesday:

"I won't let you keep me in a box, Albus Dumbledore!" Minerva had stamped across the rug in his office, "We need every able- bodied witch and wizard available to win this fight. I am perfectly capable of fighting and defending this castle!" 

"I realize that, Minerva!" Albus put his hands on her shoulders and tried to get her to sit down, "I'm not questioning your abilities. I'm simply suggesting that you have a higher priority now. Your first duty is to our child." Minerva roughly pushed away his hands.

"And how would I be helping the child if Hogwarts fell to Voldemort?" She shouted angrily, stepping back to defiantly stare him in the face, "What if the Order fails, and Voldemort wins? Would you want me to raise our child in that kind of a world?" 

"Minerva, I don't want you taking risks! This whole business is risky enough without you jumping out in front of the most dangerous dark wizard of our day!" Albus face became suddenly soft, as the fury condensed to fear that hung on the corners of his eyes. "What if we won, and something happened to you? I couldn't…"

Minerva cast a triumphant laugh in his face before circling around him, "Now! We are finally hitting the real issue! You simply want me safe for your own conscience's sake! You still feel guilty after… after December, don't you! So you think your guilt should decide the possible difference between victory and defeat? You selfish, foolish …" Minerva stepped closer to his back, slowly, as a cat would stalk its prey. 

"Enough!" The Headmaster revolved in mighty movement, and there was furious power in his eyes. For a moment, Minerva realized that she had gone too far, and was afraid he would truly be angry with her. (she had never felt the power of his entire wrath before, but had seen it used on others.) "Yes, I love you, Minerva McGonagall. I even married you, though exactly why I did that escapes me at this moment! So, yes! I will be bloody selfish with you if I want to, because you are my wife," Albus paused and drew a shaky breath. He gathered Minerva to him as he continued, "And as such, you carry a part of my soul, my life, that I value greatly. You are my greatest treasure on this earth. Not only that, but you carry something wonderful, the beautiful union of our souls is now flesh and blood in your body! I don't want to loose that!!"

By this time, Minerva had completely melted into Albus' embrace guilt had washed over her, and she wanted to snatch her previous words back from the thieving air, "Albus," She whispered through a few tears.

But Albus had not heard, "Please, Minerva" And as Minerva looked up into his eyes, her heart skipped a beat. He had never looked so lost and sad all at once.

"Albus, I will do everything in my power to keep the child safe. I will stay within the boundaries of Hogwarts. And I will forgo patrol duty. But Albus, I cannot promise you that I will not fight. I must defend my child, my husband, my home, and my beliefs. I will try to be careful. I promise you that."

"Then that is all I can ask," Albus sighed, as he slipped away to partake in an intense study of one of the silver instruments in his office.

That had been an unpleasant night, but Minerva had kept her promise. Now, watching Dorcas patrol the boundaries, she felt a queer stirring on the back of her neck. Something was about to go horribly wrong. She glanced about their chambers, simply out of paranoia, nothing seemed amiss. The professor fire-called Poppy to see if any of the students were badly hurt. No one was injured. Suddenly, pacing past the window, she saw a fireworks-like burst of lights. Spells, those were spells!

Instantly, Minerva formed a plan of action. She returned to the fireplace and notified the order member responsible for assembling the other members. Then she summoned the staff, and called Albus.

There was a hurried meeting, and it was decided that Professor Slughorn and Professor Sinistra would escort the students to their hiding place. The rest were sent to meet the Death Eaters at the entrance to the castle. Poppy was to prepare the infirmary for any casualties. Once the rest of the staff left, Albus caught Minerva and looked into her eyes. His expression pleaded with her to reconsider.

"No, Albus," She said, gently and reached up to kiss him. It was a brief, but horribly sweet kiss. And then she set her face in a grim stance and went to join the other Staff.

Order members arrived and defended the castle from the outside, while the Staff descended the stairs to join them as they were backed closer and closer to the castle entrance. There were about fifty death eaters. Fifty death eaters against thirty Order members. The battle was furious, but the odds were quickly slipping into the Order's corner. Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the grounds, and Voldemort appeared in the middle of the grounds, ensconced in a fear-inducing smoke. He had broken through the anti-apparation charms. The battle quickly changed hands. The Order was now firmly up against the castle doors. Suddenly the doors burst open, and Severus Snape came out, leading a small band of Slytherin students. This was exactly the distraction Voldemort needed. He pressed the Order between the two groups of his followers, and they worked their way into the school, Snape swiftly tearing down the protections he had seen Dumbledore place, and leaving the rest to Voldemort. The students did little real damage. Most were stunned within a few minutes, but it still diverted their attention from the main fight.

Minerva was tiring. She could feel it. Not only that, there was an unpleasant tension forming in her lower back. _I can hardly stop now!_ She admonished. She was in the middle of battling two death eaters. She took out the first while they recovered from a spell that accidentally connected with them, and was just on to the second when suddenly Severus Snape appeared and whispered something into the death eater's ear. He backed away, and Snape began working Minerva into a corner. She had to concentrate now, all her energy was being sapped much too quickly. Suddenly, Minerva realized that she was being pushed away from the main fight. In horror, she remembered the fight in December. Terrified, she pushed back toward the main group, when suddenly, Snape was not alone. Voldemort stood sneering at her. Snape bowed and scuttled away, to menace another staff member.

"I have been waiting to see you again, Minerva," Voldemort stuck his wand under Minerva's chin. Still frozen in shock, Minerva was merely gasping for air, "You see, after Abraxis told me the fascinating story of your marriage to Dumbledore, I knew I had to pay you a visit. And then when young Severus told me you were pregnant, nothing could keep me away. After all, I couldn't let the child of the most powerful witch and wizard of the age survive to challenge me, could I."

"You cannot stop Dumbledore, Tom," Minerva spat defiantly, "I know that's what you want. But Albus will forever be more powerful than you. Good will always triumph in the end."

"You will address me as Voldemort." The Dark Wizard glared, and flicked his wand at Minerva's stomach. She doubled over in pain. "I want to hear you say it before I kill you. That way, when you reach hell, you can tell them the thief of death sent you. Say it!" He shrieked, casting another curse at the poor professor.

Minerva was on the floor. All ready at such a level of pain that she could not scream for help, she managed to rasp, "Good always wins, Tom"

"I AM VOLDEMORT!!" The Dark Lord bellowed. This time he threw such a curse at Minerva that she was thrown back against the wall. Finally Minerva could tolerate no more. A scream managed to rip itself from her pain wracked body. It did not go unheeded.

Alexander Fortinbras knew his time had come. He caught the attention of an Order member, and together they approached Voldemort. The Edgar Bones swept Minerva off to the infirmary, while Fortinbras moved in for the Dark Wizard. Before a true duel could begin, Albus entered the fight, closely followed by Anton Dolohov. Dolohov started working against Fortinbras, while Dumbledore pursued Voldemort. The fighting seemed to be dying down everywhere else. Most of the death eaters, seeing their master cornered by the great Albus Dumbledore, had fled. There were simply a few isolated battles, but mostly tending to the wounded.

Seeing his followers in flight, Voldemort cast a fog that allowed him to escape. He had once again failed in his assault on Hogwarts, but not without leaving scars.

Meanwhile, Dolohov had suffered much damage at the hands of Fortinbras. Unfortunately, the professor appeared to have taken several mortally-wounding blows. Dolohov noted his master's departure, cast one last purple curse, and followed into the fog.

When the smoke cleared, there were very few wounded. Two Order members were dead, and three had severe wounds. Five death eaters were unconscious on the floor, and Alastor Moody was taking care of them. They would be in Azkaban before the next night. Snape and the other students were captured and would be dealt with the next day. They had knocked out Professor Sinistra and Professor Slughorn. But both were easily revived, and little harm was actually done.

Albus had a severely deformed hand from his duel with Voldemort. Poppy would be hard pressed to mend such evil magic. The rest of the staff seemed to be fine. All but Fortinbras. Anton Dolohov was about to claim another victim. Alexander was still conscious, but his soul was pulling up its roots and preparing to depart. He was taken up to the infirmary and given the few pointless comforts offered the dying.

His first inquiry was after Minerva.

Tears forming in the corners of her eyes at his hopeless romanticism, Poppy answered, "Well, the attack certainly weakened her, but aside from a cracked rib, it's nothing a few days' bed rest won't fix."

"Could I possibly talk to her?" Fortinbras wheezed. Albus walked through the infirmary door at that moment, and instantly rushed to Minerva's side. She was sitting propped up in a bed on the other side of the infirmary. Craning her neck to hear the conversation going on around Fortinbras' bedside, she turned to Albus.

"Will you help me go over there?" She queried softly. Minerva's eyes were misting over with regret at the imminent departure of a dear friend.

"Of course, darling." Albus smiled gently. He swiftly charmed a nearby chair into a wheelchair and had Edgar Bones, who was helping Poppy in the infirmary, lift Minerva into it. They rolled over to Fortinbras' bed.

"Alex," Minerva whispered, his eyes were closed. She laid her hand on his arm, and held his all ready frigid hand, "Alex, I'm here. We're both here, my husband and I."

His eyes cracked open with a valiant effort, "Ahhhh… Your husband. If you'd excuse me, Minerva, I must talk with him alone." Albus awkwardly wheeled the chair to face the other wall. When he returned, Fortinbras fixed him a terribly strong, stern glare for a dying man, "Dumbledore, there are very few women like that in this world. You are an outrageously lucky wizard. I expect you to take the best of care of this treasure you've been given. As for the child, keep it safe and away from all this insanity." He let his admonition sink in, then rallied his strength, "Now, if you could bring your wife back…"

Albus nodded, somewhat shocked by the depth of this man's feeling. When Minerva was turned back around, she was crying in earnest, but she was also in pain. Albus attempted to question her about it, but she waved him away, "Alex? You wanted to talk to me?" she managed, through her tears.

"Yes," His words were more costly now. His time in this level of the world was slipping away, "I want to tell you, Minerva Dumbledore," It sounded odd coming from someone else's lips, "I never stopped loving you. You are a rare, talented woman, Minerva. I am fortunate to have spent time with you."

"Thank you…" was all Minerva could manage. Her face contorted for the briefest moment in a spasm of pain, but she swiftly suppressed it and turned her attention back to Fortinbras. He was now truly leaving.

"Goodbye," He smiled and then his gaze began to see the far off world he was so quickly approaching. A terrible, shocked expression filled his face as he inhaled one last time. "Death is only the beginning!" He breathed as he slipped off into the undiscovered country.

Minerva broke into sobs. There was not a dry eye in the entire infirmary. Albus and Edgar helped Minerva back into her bed. As soon as she was settled, she burst out with a cry of pain.

"Let me through!" Poppy shrieked as the two men stood at the bedside, dumbfounded. A few spells later, and Poppy whipped around to Albus, "Albus, the baby! It's on its way! I can't stop it!"

"Is it safe?" Albus demanded, Minerva was clearly in pain again, the contractions were coming quickly.

"As safe as it's going to get. Voldemort's attack probably brought this on!" Poppy zipped about the room, preparing the area for the baby's arrival. Minerva moaned. "There, there, Minerva! Do you want something for the pain?" 

Unfortunately, everyone had forgotten that Minerva's wand was still within arm's reach.

"DO I WANT SOMETHING FOR THE PAIN????" Minerva shrieked and sent a hex whistling in the mediwitch's direction. The Deputy Headmistress was clearly livid. A pool of dampness on the sheets showed that her water had broken. The baby would be entering the world very soon.

"I'll take that as a yes." Poppy cowed as she cast a spell on the cringing woman. Albus removed his wife's wand and escorted Edgar to a safe location. He returned to the infirmary.

Four hours later, a shrieking, purply-skinned baby girl entered the world. She was innocently tiny and helpless. Albus cradled her in his good arm and rocked her by his wife's bed. Minerva was sleeping, and everything seemed abnormally quiet, considering they had been in a fight for their existence six hours ago. Now the world was full of promise. The promise of returning the school to normal. The not-so-promising promise of hiring a new DADA teacher. The wonderful promise of spending more time with his wife. And now, this most wonderful of all promises, being able to spend time with his brand new daughter.

Minerva was staring from her pillows. A smile folded itself into her features. "We made it!"

"Just barely, Poppy told me that in a few minutes, Voldemort would…" But Albus stopped as Minerva flinched. "Minerva? Are you all right?"

"Yes, just please, let's not talk about, You-Know-Who all right?" She leaned further into the pillows, "Let's simply spend these moments celebrating the birth of our daughter. We have the rest of our lives to keep her safe from evil."

A/N Well, we made it. PLEASE REVIEW!!! I know it's over, but any suggestions you have will be applied to future (wink, wink, nudge, nudge.) fan fics. Thank you for sticking with me through thirteen chapters!!


	14. Update

UPDATE: I am writing a prequel to this story called "International Ministry Disaster". It can be found here: http:/ www. fanfiction. net/s/8133416/1/International_Ministry_Disaster (remove the spaces)


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